All the King's Horses
by Kade Riggs
Summary: It's been several years since Jack and Riddick parted ways, and anything could happen when they finally cross paths again. Riddick,OFC possible Jack,OMC andor J,R later. Beginning of sequel posted.
1. The Dying of the Sun

Disclaimer: I do not own Jack, Riddick, or anything else in the Pitch Black world. I do, however, own all my original characters. Please ask before borrowing;-)

* * *

Sunset. 

Amazing that she could still find it beautiful. And she did, she always had, in a sad messed up kind of way. Somehow she found it just a little bit soothing that the sun died every evening, sending the world into darkness.

Jack sighed slowly, misting the cool glass of the spaceport window her forehead rested against, her green eyes dull in spite of the last rays of sun shining in them.

There were people, hundreds of people, milling around getting ready to go off to destinations unknown. She could hear them, see them, because they were part of her background, just as she was part of theirs. A far lesser part. Lone wolf, that was what she was. Nothing but an observer.

God what she wouldn't give to get out of this life.

"All the king's horses, and all the king's men," she whispered to herself just as her flight was called.

Jack reluctantly pulled herself away from the view, walking mindlessly through the terminal, her light pack slung over her left shoulder. He'd taught her that, to always keep her right arm free to defend herself.

There she went again, thinking about things that would only pull her deeper into depression.

Him. She was going to meet 'him' on the other side. Or so she'd been told. Imam had recently fallen ill, and at his request she would spend the rest of her adolescent life with her "next of kin."

A.k.a. one Richard B. Riddick, escaped convict, murderer.


	2. Saying Goodbye

Imam had been firm about the move. He'd believed it was in her best interest. Jack had been more than reluctant.

They'd both stood in the kitchen the evening he told her, preparing dinner together when he brought up the subject that had weighed heavily on both their minds for months by then.

_"But, Imam, you're like an adopted father to me, why do you want me to leave?" she asked, knowing she would have to leave the only permanent home she'd ever known, and not liking the idea one bit._

_Imam's brow furrowed with both sadness and concern. "I do not wish for you to leave me, Jack. We have done well making a home here. But I am aging and my health isn't what it once was. I must move to a place where I'll have assistance available at all times, for when I need it. If I were a rich man I'd pay rent for this apartment as well, so you could stay near me, but money doesn't grow on trees. Not even for holy men," he tried to tease, but the mood remained heavy between them._

_"I'll take care of you!" she said desperately, and she meant it. She would take care of him, if he'd let her._

_"Shh," he shushed gently, taking a step toward her and placing his hands softly on her shoulders. "I will not burden you, Jack. You are too young to be caregiver to an old man."_

_She laughed with him as the tears gathered in her eyes. It was their joke. Before his rheumatism and arthritis had set in she'd teased him about his age so often, and he'd teased her back about how head strong she could be, running into things without thinking._

_He was her only friend, her only family. Why did she have to go? Sure it would probably only be temporary. She'd start college in another nine or ten months and then she could come back, perhaps get a scholarship to attend the university on New Mecca. But in her heart of hearts she knew this journey she was about to take would not be pleasant. Things had not ended well between her and Riddick._

_"Imam, I don't trust him, isn't there anyone else?" she asked solemnly._

_Imam shook his head, "Unfortunately there is not. Men grow more powerful, more intelligent--they conquer the skies and the depths of space, yet they never grow wiser. To the few members left of my family you are an infidel, Jack, and if you were to go live with them you would be treated as an outsider. Besides, I thought your preference would've been to stay with Mr. Riddick, seeing as you can't seem to help but become irritated in the presence of my family and friends whenever they suggest that your mannerisms and habits do not befit a young lady of New Mecca."_

_Her eyes dropped to the floor. Imam understood her so well. He tried to guide her, not change her. Until that moment, when leaving him became a reality, she'd had no idea just how much her foster father meant to her._

_"But why him? I don't see how you can trust him after..." she trailed off, allowing her eyes to fall to the ground in shame. It was still painful for her to talk about it._

_Imam's warm hand tipped her chin back up, so she had no choice but to look at him. He smiled sadly in an attempt to comfort her. "After he abandoned the girl who loved him for a woman you so fondly describe as a...what is it that you call her, Jack?"_

_"A crack ho?" Jack offered deadpan, causing Imam to smile briefly and shake his head as though she were beyond his practical understanding._

_"Yes, he left for a woman you obviously held in contempt...and to top it all off, he crept away in the middle of the night without a word of warning after promising he'd never leave. I agree, he's given you no reason to trust him, Jack, save one. He saved your life three times on that night so long ago, risking his own to do so. Therefore, a wise man would conclude that your life must be of value to him._

_"Do not forget Zeke, Shazza, Paris, Johns, Hassan. He watched each one die without shame or pity in his eyes, and did not make a single move to help them."_

_"He only helped me because Fry was watching. She was the only one he cared about. He made it very clear when he left that he had to go because of me," she spat, a hint of jealousy she'd never overcome present in her tone and in the memories she used to cherish of how Riddick had fought to keep her alive on T2._

_Imam sighed, again squeezing her shoulders. "You are young, Jack. Too young perhaps to know how a child can slip into a man's heart when he leaves it unguarded even for a moment. I know little about Mr. Riddick's past, but I do not think it would be very far off for me to guess that someone did once leave him alone in the darkness to die, perhaps when he was no older than you were four years ago. It was you who saved him, Jacquelyn, because you reminded him of the child he once was. He went back to save that child--to save himself and to save you. He could be the one to free you from all your demons, child, the ones that still haunt you day and night. Where your schoolmates have failed to reach you, I pray he will."_

_She almost winced upon hearing him say that. So, he did know after all, no matter how she'd tried to hide it from him. He knew about the nightmares and the panic attacks, about her separation from humanity._

_She listened morosely as he continued, "Allah help me if I'm wrong about him, because I fear he will crush what's left of your spirit. If you aren't happy with him, Jack, I've already prearranged for you to return whenever you wish, and should you come back we'll find a way to make ends meet together, I promise."_

_She had gripped his forearms tight then, trying to draw strength from him, encouraged by his words even though she knew they weren't true. _

_No number of good intentions would pay her rent in New Mecca's capital city_

_"All right, Imam, I'll go to stay with him, but only if he agrees."_

_And in the back of her mind played the words she'd only recently turned to again after such a long period of disuse._

_All the king's horses, and all the king's men..._


	3. Long Time No See

During the journey Jack tried to force her thoughts to avoid resting on her memories of him. So of course he was all she thought of the entire time...

His face would no longer appear in her mind on demand, time had caused his features to fade, and the brief flashes she did still have were always of Riddick scowling at her with disapproval. She could barely remember his smile, the one she'd loved so dearly, if secretly.

The trip took only three days, because believe it or not Riddick (Rick now) hadn't strayed far from New Mecca. No wonder, there were few mercs lurking so far from the big slams, and it wasn't like he'd been a big fan of cryo sleep anyway. At least not while she'd known him.

Jack avoided contact with the other passengers. She stayed locked in her bunk the majority of the time, emerging only to eat and use the showers once or twice a day. She did her regular dance-gymnastic workout routines to pass the time, even though she was limited on space to the extreme.

It wasn't like she wanted to talk to anyone, there was too much to think about going to a new home.

Home, home was back on New Mecca. She missed Imam already, expecting to hear him in the kitchen every morning, up long before her and preparing their breakfast.

A few people, other teenaged girls mostly, did attempt to speak with her during meals. She again reverted to the crash survival course she'd received from the man who knew so much about it, giving them all safe, single syllable responses. Soon she found she was being left well enough alone. That was familiar enough. The skill of turning invisible had been one of her greatest assets as a runaway. The only problem was she never knew when it was safe to turn it off. And honestly, she didn't know how.

Jack told herself time and again that she wouldn't be nervous when she saw him. Hell, she should be too pissed at him to be nervous, yet the butterflies were kicking up the moment she woke from a fitful night of sleep the morning her ship was due to reach its destination, and by the time she stepped off the ship's ramp they were almost nauseating. She hadn't even been able to eat that morning.

Strange questions were flying through her mind as she mildly searched the crowd of people, wondering if he was even going to show.

Would his eyes still be the same? Would he have stopped shaving his head? Would Shella be with him?

She cursed under her breath just thinking about that possibility. Shella was one bitch Jack was pretty sure she could honestly admit she hated. And that was saying something. For the past four years causing Imam shame, having him think he'd failed to teach her to steer herself away from such ugly feelings would've been more than enough to dissuade her from even thinking such a thing.

But Jack was still willing to make an exception here and there. And Shella **definitely** qualified as an exception.

------------------------------------

Two hours.

She'd been sitting alone with only her backpack for company on the street curb outside the port for two hours. And not one whisper of a sign of that bastard Riddick.

It was already long after nightfall on the planet, even though it was morning back where she'd come from. Jack finally rose from her spot, slowly walking towards the port's small hotel, intending to lodge a room and then go back to New Mecca the following day on her transport's return trip.

This had obviously been a HUGE waste of her time. Jack began to grumble to herself, as she often did when she was angry. "If I knew where the fuck that damn idiot was I'd tip off the nearest merc and collect part of the bounty on his worthless criminal ass! Would serve that son of a bitch right..."

It was times like that when she thought of Johns, of how he'd been so right about Riddick but at the time she hadn't believed a word that had come out of his mouth. Big Evil sure did deserve his spot in the fucking Asshole Hall of Fame, and she hoped he fucking enjoyed it too.

Still working her way across the black ocean of the enormous empty parking lot Jack resumed her angry ramblings. "One of these days Riddick, your body's gonna figure out you don't have a heart, and then you're gonna drop dead just like that!" Jack snapped her fingers in demonstration.

"And I really just hope to Allah I'm there to...Holy shit!" she yelped, her eyes flying wide open as out of nowhere a heavy hand fell on her shoulder.


	4. Too Slow for Jack

AN: Unfortunately thisMIGHT be the last chapter I post for about a week and a half. I have finals next week, and as much as I hate to admit it, at some point I need to drag myself away from my computer and start studying for them. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, you've been really great!

-------------------------------------

She was on the planet Nehca, and on Nehca they had some of the softest stepping muggers in the universe. Jack knew this to be true when seemingly out of nowhere a large hand came down hard on her left shoulder, the one her pack was slung over, and restrained her with enough strength that ordinarily she would've known she was in BIG trouble.

But somehow her bitterness managed to get the best of her, outweighing her natural fear as it so often did. How many times had Imam warned her that her temper would get her in trouble someday? Then again, did she really care at the moment?

Jack rolled her eyes as the initial shock of being grabbed quickly wore off. "Not today bud," she growled, stomping on an instep as she put her left elbow into her attacker's diaphragm, stunning him long enough for her to draw her knife.

She spun around, cutting him diagonally from right hip to the ribs above his heart in one fluid motion. She felt the pleasant sensation of the blade biting into clothing and flesh alike, and knew she'd executed perfectly.

When the damage was done she hopped back, throwing her pack clear of her body as she took up a boxer's stance, knife facing out and bloody in her right hand, ready to slice and dice.

"Ah fuck Jack, what the hell's the matter with you?" the thug complained, nearly startling her into a moment of weakness. But her survival instinct held. This could be a trick.

It was too dark for her to see if this was Riddick, and she couldn't see how it could possibly be him. Not unless he'd really let himself go.

No way had his reflexes slowed that much.

"Who're you?" she demanded harshly, not letting her defensive stance drop.

"Who the fuck do you think it is?" he growled back, pressing both hands to the shallow wound she'd drawn across him, trying to stop the light blood flow.

"Prove it. Rid...Rick wouldn't have let me get away with a stunt like I just pulled! He would've seen it coming a mile away!"

"Rick did see it fucking coming!" he growled. "Ah, shit Jack, I agree to take you in and you try to gut me?"

She smirked just a bit with pride. "Key word being 'tried', I am capable of succeeding you know. I still could do the honors if you don't come up with some proof quick. I'll give you five seconds," she challenged, backing away another step towards her bag should her flight reflex need to be exercised in the extremely near future.

"I know that you're bleeding Jack, maybe that's why you're being so bitchy," he mocked, taking out a white handkerchief to help with the now dripping blood.

"Very funny, try again asshole," she snapped.

She was not at all pleased at the reference that the reason she was pissed was because she was female, NOT because she had perfectly good reason to be pissed at the moment! He had grabbed _he_r, and he (Riddick), the king of cautious, should've known better than to startle those who tend to be chronically on edge!

"You know it's me Jack, now you're just begging for a fight. I'm NOT going to play this game with you. I'm walking away, cause you aren't worth my time! Should've known the holy man was crazy trying to get me to take a babysitting job," he ground out, walking away as the cut he'd sustained continued to ooze and sting.

However, turning his back on her with so much disregard did nothing but make Jack see red. Once again she threw all her rational thinking right out the window.

"Fine!" she shouted after him. "Now I can go back to New Mecca and Imam can pay me the money he owes me! I made a bet with him that you were too much of a God damn coward to face me Riddick!"

Riddick froze mid-stride, turned and heatedly stalked back towards her as Jack prepared to defend herself. But when she struck at him with her knife he easily caught her hand in a death grip and spun her around, drawing her own knife up to her throat as he pinned her back to his front.

He'd made her completely defenseless, and had done so only using one arm. Jack tried to elbow him in the stomach, but in spite of his wound he didn't even flinch this time, tensing in preparation for the blow.

"Weak Jack, really weak. You wanted proof? How's this?" he roared in her ear.

Jack screamed her frustration, but to no avail, she couldn't get free no matter how she struggled. His arm was like steel around her neck, and her own knife was biting into the tender skin at her throat.

"Fuck you Riddick!"

"It's Rick Jackie, Riddick has long since left the building."

"Johns was right, you do belong in the fucking Asshole Hall of Fame! Everything he said about you was true!" Jack tried to take a bite out of his hand, only to have the blade still locked in her grip get pressed even tighter up under her jaw.

"Johns wanted you dead Jack, he told me to make you hammerhead bait," Riddick replied far too calmly.

Jack forced herself to laugh. "Yeah, and if you didn't have the balls to do it then, Dicky, why would I be afraid of you actually getting the job done now?"

He let her go suddenly, twisting the knife from her hand as she fell to her knees, gasping for air, holding her nearly-cut throat with both hands.

"Let's get one thing straight Jack, whatever the hell it was I did that pissed you off so bad...you're over it starting right now! I'm not doing this with you ever again. I've set up a decent life for myself here, and some punk kid isn't going to come along and ruin the only good thing I've ever had! Got it?" he rumbled dangerously, daring her to have a problem with that.

Jack glared straight ahead, not bothering to look back over her shoulder at him. She wanted to scream at him some more, but her instincts told her she was on thin ice, and if she wasn't careful, she could be swimming with the fishes before long. How did the saying go? It's usuallybest, if at all possible, to avoid heckling heroine addicts, postal workers, and mass murderers?

"Yeah, I got it, Dick," she rasped, coughing painfully once or twice.

"It's Rick Jackie girl, call me Dick one more time and I'll give you scars to match the ones you gave me tonight. And Jack—"

"What!"

She heard the low thunder of his sardonic laugh, and it only caused the rage inside her to flare up all the more. She clenched her fists, fighting down the urge to jump up and take a swing at him.

"Nice moves," he said lightly, before turning and again walking away, leaving her to decide if she would follow or stay behind.


	5. Gag Me

AN: I decided to sneak in one more chap before things got super crazy with finals;-) And crazy they shall become.

--------------------------

Jack spent most of the hour long drive calming down, only then did she begin to take stock of her new situation. She'd followed Riddick in the end because honestly, during her short confrontation with him, she'd felt more alive than she had in years. The thrill of a fight...of defending herself...it was intoxicating! And after all it couldn't hurt to spend a few days here giving it a chance to work out, right?

However, the first step would be actually talking to him. With his final comment, telling he she had nice moves, he'd somehow managed to exorcise her venom and she allowed it fade away for the time being. He'd approved of her grace and speed, recognized it, praised it. It had been so long since he'd actually noticed anything she'd done.

She studied him first, trying to judge if the years had treated him well. They had as far as she could tell. He looked no older than he had when he'd left. He'd gotten rid of his goggles and shades, and she suspected he was wearing contacts to protect his eyes. And more importantly, to hide the silver shine that would surly raise questions.

For the first time she noticed that he'd grown a goatee, the same kind that many business men of the day had come to consider stylish. Jack hated it, but she supposed it wasn't terrible enough to give her room to actually complain about his looks.

He was still freaking buff after all.

"So, what're you doing now? How're you making money?" she finally asked.

Jack figured it was critical enough information. If he was into stuff that was illegal, odds were good that Imam wouldn't want her to be there anyway, and she'd have plenty of excuse to leave whenever she wished.

"I work as a security system consultant through a firm in the city. They design programs for everything from stadiums to prisons and I get paid to give my professional opinion on them all. Ironic, huh?"

"Not really, who else would be able to tell them where some genius convict could find a loop hole?"

"Exactly," he said with a scary amount of enthusiasm, similar to the time when she'd asked him about his shine job back when they first met. "And the best part is, since I get to help design the systems, I know where all the back doors are."

Jack snorted, "That's cheating Riddick, now if they send you back to Slam City you'll just slip right out again. You won't have to figure out a plan first like all the other criminals."

Riddick did laugh a little, and that pleased her, but when he cut it short and sighed deeply she knew the fun might be over and braced for whatever was coming.

"Jack, you're going to have to get used to calling me Rick, my name's Rick Costello now. People would still ask questions if they heard the name Riddick."

She almost sighed with relief. For a second there she thought she was in for a lecture for something or other, she'd endured hundreds of them, and usually could pick out the telltale signs of when one was coming.

"I know, it's just...I never thought of you as anything but Riddick."

"Yeah, me either kid, but things change."

"Not everything," she finally said upon hearing him refer to her as 'kid'.

Jack turned away from him, allowing her forehead to rest against the window as she gazed up at the stars. Amazing how they could be so different here than they were on New Mecca, yet many of them were exactly the same constellations of stars that she'd seen on every other planet she'd ever been on.

After a time of silence she felt Riddick's eyes on her for brief periods, and she wondered if that lecture was in the making after all. Eventually there would be one, she knew. After all, he would have ground rules for her to follow, even more than Imam had set on her because Rick wasn't the man everyone here thought he was. She knew his secret, and was at risk to let it slip.

"I miss Imam," she said softly at last, breaking the silence. "I hope he doesn't die."

"Everyone dies," Riddick replied simply, immediately, and without any seeming emotion.

"I know, but I don't want him to go now, I've only had him in my life four years. I won't have anyone I can call family when he's gone."

She expected him to deny the truth of that statement, insist that she would still have him, even if soon it would be time for Imam to return to Allah. He didn't say anything though, and that in itself hurt her a great deal.

In spite of her loathing of the idea Jack had become somewhat domesticated during her years of living in a loving home, and she wasn't entirely sure she was up to the challenge of living the life of an unattached child on the run from the state. Sure she had a little money now, unlike then. She'd saved up from her part time jobs just in case. But things were different now. She didn't want to return to the fear, the anxiety, the dishonesty that the path she'd traveled at such a young age had contained.

But if it came to that what choice would she have? This arrangement with Riddick was only temporary. Neither of them had been able to stand to share a roof the last time, and as far as Jack could tell nothing had changed since then, not really.

While she was lost in thought they'd pulled into a neighborhood that was packed with neat little cookie cutter houses, mostly white or some form of light earth tone. They didn't have picket fences but she figured they might as well have, considering how stereotypically American 20th century they all were. There were even lawn gnomes set up next to the driveway Riddick turned into, lawn gnomes and a bird bath, and what looked like a scene out of _Bambi_ complete with a fawn and rabbit.

Jack tried hard not to gag. No way was living in a place so frustratingly homey Riddick's idea. Shella must have been behind it. Actually, considering how tame Riddick's whole lifestyle had become, Jack figured Shella was probably behind a lot of things.

"This it?" she asked, not in the least attempting to hide the dread in her voice.

Riddick smiled softly as he gazed at his perfect little white house. "Yup, home sweet home. No place like it in the galaxy."

After he got out of the vehicle, Jack really did gag.


	6. Anger Management

AN: Sorry it took so long, but here's chapter six at last. More soon, I promise.

* * *

She had to insist on carrying her own bag inside. Jack couldn't help being more than a little disturbed by how Riddick become so gentlemanly all of a sudden, offering to carry it for her. It was like he'd completely transformed not only from the hero she'd loved, but even from the man who'd met her at the spaceport.

He opened the front door for her, politely ushering her in ahead of him, pulling some slick line about 'ladies first' out of his ass. Ha, ladies first. Jack just bet he thought that one up all by himself!

The inside of his house was far flashier than the outside. There was a crystal chandelier hanging high above the entryway, and from her vantage point she could see the walls of the living room were covered with foreign tapestries and oddly placed mirrors. The worst of it all was the far too pleasant and feminine shade of pink that stood as a background in seemingly every room.

"Were the walls painted this color when you bought this house Riddick?" she asked, a little overwhelmed that he'd slipped so far. Gone so, (dare she even think it?) soft!

"No, actually they were off-white. We painted them before moving everything from our old apartment," he said, walking to the kitchen.

Jack followed absentmindedly a short distance behind. "Holy shit, you really have lost it," she mumbled, still trying to process all the antique furniture and the ridiculous knickknacks.

Richard B. Riddick had knickknacks in his pink-walled house! A whole fucking trove of them! Unbelievable.

The mere shock of it all was quickly draining her of strength, and when she entered the kitchen Jack let her bag fall to the floor and immediately collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. However, upon looking down at the oak chair back she realized that even the chair had little heart shapes carved into it! What the fuck?

Jack rolled her eyes, letting her jaw rest heavily on her fist. "Well, I guess I don't have to worry about worshiping the ground he walks on anymore. Don't have to. It's already covered with pretty pink flower petals and the stuff love's made of," she mimicked cruelly below her host's sensitive hearing.

By then she knew it was getting clichéd, but she seriously wondered if she should try to find a bathroom before she came upon anything else 'too sickeningly sweet to behold' and her stomach decided to part ways with the space-junk she'd eaten for breakfast/dinner.

On second thought, she decided she'd better stay away from the bathrooms.

Jack shuttered upon thinking of all the horrible items she might find in one of those. Hell, the guy probably had lilac scented candles sitting around his pink heart-shaped Jacuzzi built for two. Ack!

Riddick stopped by the fridge, reaching in and pulling out a large Tupperware bottle half full of some kind of red electrolyte drink, instead of his regular beer. He asked Jack if she wanted anything, then asked her again before it finally sank in that he was speaking to her.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. If you got anything hard around I'll take it," she replied absently, never thinking he might mind that according to intergalactic law she was still several months away from legally being able to drink.

Heck, he'd been the one who'd gotten her onto tequila and Jack Daniels in the first place, letting her sneak sips when Imam wasn't watching.

Riddick chuckled, bringing her attention somewhat back to the plane of reality. "Sorry Jackie, there's no booze of any kind in this house. That's rule number one by the way. We'll get around to the rest of the rules later on, but I know you've had a long day so I won't push it."

Jack absolutely could not believe her ears. Riddick didn't drink anymore? Since when?!

"What, you go out to drink?" she asked rather stupidly.

Again, she drew a rough laugh from him, but she was no longer enjoying the fact. He shook his head as he had to wipe away tears from laughing so hard. Jack was NOT amused in the slightest.

Riddick's fit of laughter soon calmed, mostly. A chuckle or two still managed to escape him periodically. "I'm sorry, really, I am. No Jack, I don't drink anymore. Shella asked me to give it up, take up her lifestyle, and I did. Looking back I have absolutely no regrets, and I hope you won't either."

_I won't either? Riddick, you really ARE evil if you think for one second that you can turn me into... _

Jack growled, too agitated to even complete her thought.

After a short moment of silence Riddick took a long pull from his bottle, crossing the kitchen and pausing by the phone, checking the answering machine. As the tape rolled through a couple nonsense telemarketing messages he smiled at her, and it was almost friendly.

"So, what do ya think of the place?" a hint of pride present in his tone as his gaze swept around what had become his home.

Jack looked around as well, hoping to find something semi-nice to say about it. Honestly she still couldn't believe he lived here. Maybe it was a cover for the illegal activities he was likely still up to, in some form or another.

"Um, well, it's not exactly what I expected," she admitted, looking around at the spotless tile floor and counter tops.

Did anyone really live here? It was insanely clean, nothing like Riddick's old room back at Imam's.

"I know, it's nuts isn't it! I love this place though. I seriously do nothing but sit around here on the weekends, just soaking it up."

Jack shook her head, trying to get the image of "Richard B. Riddick, pansy, loser" out of her mind's eye. "Yeah, that's great Riddick...I mean, what better to do on a Saturday night than sit around at home and look at your pink walls? I mean, I seriously wish Imam would've let me do that more often..." She honestly did try to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, but some of it managed to slip in anyway.

"Well, actually on Saturday nights I have to go out, I have a minimum number of management hours I have to get in every week. It's kind of a drag sometimes, cause I'd really rather just stay in."

"Whoa, management hours? What're those?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Oh, when we got here Shelly got me enrolled in these anger management and relaxation technique classes. Seriously, if I didn't go to them, I'd probably go crazy. They're great classes, I swear by them. But they're all the way across town, and sometimes it's just a hassle you know?"

Jack stood up, feeling the urge to dig in her bag until she found something sweet to chew on. "No, actually I don't know. Why are you taking anger management classes? You could be like the most controlled guy I knew. Control was like your freaking specialty, it was amazing! You could stand in the dark when we would play hide and go seek for like an hour and every time I walked past where you were hiding I never once..."

"Ah, I don't know," he cut her off. "I had some problems with handling my anger. Lots of stuff from my past used to get me all worked up sometimes, but I've dealt with it now. I'm better. I'm really active with the company racquetball team too, so any other pent up anxiety I get rid of that way..."

Jack, still digging in her bag, attempted to wrap her head around that little surprise. And failed... "Whoa, whoa, whoa! You're telling me you play racquetball? Holy shit Riddick, have you become a complete God damn pussy at this woman's bidding?"

The last time Jack had lived with Riddick, saying something like that would've sent him off into a blind fit of rage. At least she was pretty sure it would've; she'd never been bold enough to try it. Anymore though, it didn't even seem to faze him at all.

He gave her a confused look. "Why do you say that Jack?"

She finally stopped digging in her pack, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "Why? I'll tell you why Riddick! You ARE a God damn pussy! You're so off your game that if a merc came after you, he could dig a hole outside your front doorstep and even if he didn't bother to cover it up you'd fall in it face first on your way out the door while reading the paper and drinking a double cream latte espresso! And you can't sell me on you liking this façade of a life!"

"I love this life Jackie, it's all I've ever wanted. It's normal. I do think I know where your hostility is coming from though. I know that in the past you had feelings for who I was, you were a kid on the run attracted to the strength I represented. Your frustration is a perfectly normal reaction. I just have to tell you, I wasn't what I seemed to you at the time. This is who I always was, it just took me time to discover it. Richard B. Riddick was a shield, nothing more."

"Bullshit!" Jack snapped at him, her eyes flashing. "You can't convince me that for just a second back in that parking lot you didn't feel completely and totally alive while you were fighting with me! I know how that feels Riddick, because until that moment I thought I'd never feel it again! The adrenaline rush, the fear, the pain! It reminds you that you've still got the power to fight, and it doesn't matter what the fuck it is you're fighting for or against, the important thing is that you've got enough life in you to give it everything you've got! You used to be just as addicted to that as I am!"

Riddick shook his head as though she were too young and naïve to understand . "I'm sorry Jack, I didn't know things had gotten so bad with you. Listen, come with me to my classes, they really do help. The instructor is great, if anyone can help you deal with whatever happened to you that makes you so angry all the time, it's him."

Now Jack was positive she needed a candy bar. She at once resumed scrounging in her bag, only to find that her supply of chocolate was long since tapped, and more wouldn't be coming until the rest of her things came in the post.

"Ah, dammit! Riddick, do you have any candy?" she demanded forcefully. Surely in this gingerbread house of horrors there had to be something sugary to eat!

He smiled, wagging a finger at her. "Na, uh, ah Jack. While you live in this house there will be no junk food, and that includes sweets." he scolded teasingly. "Shella's really strict on that sort of thing. She's a vegan, remember? I know it might be a little strange at first, but soon you'll get used to the diet and you'll see how much good it does you. Once you're hooked, you'll never go back!"

Jack's hands balled up into fists and she clamped her mouth shut as hard as she could, trying to hold back the scream that wanted to erupt from deep within her chest.

She'd had no idea when she'd gotten on that ship three days before that she'd boarded the train to hell. Because surely, this was hell.

The real thing couldn't possibly be worse.


	7. Sanctuary

AN: Riddick will be frustratingly out of character in this chapter and several of the following chapters. The question is, can Jack save him?

* * *

"All the King's horses, and all the King's men," Jack whispered almost angrily under her breath, trying to once again NOT be surprised that a room in Riddick's house was chock-full of things like fake Ming vases, decorative elves, and a bed completely covered in pink fluffy pillows.

"This'll be your room Jack. I'm not gonna lie to you, Shella will probably get a little upset if you don't dust every week and keep the bed made," Riddick droned on, just as he'd been doing during the entire tour of the far too large house.

Far too large because the commentary about it had dragged on for the better part of an hour.

Funny, Jack didn't remember Riddick being much of a talker.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll keep it nice and tidy for the little lady," Jack grumbled, deciding to cut Riddick off before he got up another head of steam on all the pleasant decorating memories he'd shared with his 'darling Shelly'.

"I know you will Jack," he said pleasantly, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. That same dreamy smile she'd had to put up with since they'd arrived at the house still plastered on his face. Jack was beginning to wonder if it had been pasted there with industrial strength superglue.

He stood there with his Tupperware bottle of red sports drink still in hand, watching as she carelessly tossed the numerous pillows haphazardly to the floor, making room to empty her bag on the bed. In all honesty Jack had absolutely no intention of keeping things neat or tidy in HER room. She would have at least one messy place in Riddick's three ring circus of a home to call sanctuary. In a week she'd have it whipped into a pit almost as comfortable as the one she'd had in Imam's house.

Jack smiled sadly upon thinking that, drawing a picture of herself, Imam, and Riddick out of her pack. It was a photo taken of them shortly after they'd reached New Mecca, just outside of the capital city where they were to live.

The sun rise made a glorious background, so beautiful and uncannily symbolic. This was truly her favorite memory. A picture of their small family standing on the edge of a new desert, in the dawn of a new life. She'd had so much hope back then, had been so grateful to just be alive.

"What've you got there?" Riddick asked softly, near her ear.

She jumped, having not heard his approach. So, apparently Big Evil could still sneak around a little bit if he really tried hard.

"You gotta stop doin' that to me," Jack scolded, having nearly dropped her precious item and thus was clutching it to her chest. "Don't you remember anything from Slam? Don't sneak up on people who're paranoid!"

He chuckled real low in his chest. "Sorry Jackie, I didn't know you fit the description of paranoid."

She didn't respond, too confused to even try. Why did bickering with him like that seem so familiar? Had he changed or not? Was he Riddick or not? Why was she getting the strangest feeling like things weren't all they seemed here?

"Riddick, is this the part when you tell me that you've been playing a monster joke on me since I got here, and you haven't really turned into Mr. Rogers on me?" she whispered without turning around, hopeful that it was all a prank to get her back for...the last time...

"What do you mean?" he asked sincerely, back to using that tone of voice that was so foreign, so strange to her.

He sounded so fake, like a counterfeit Riddick. There had been a time when he'd hated people who sounded like that just as much as she did.

Jack hugged the picture to herself, the one of her, Imam, and all that was left of the beast she'd once loved. The beast she still loved...

"Never mind," she whispered. "I think I'd better get some sleep now, it's been a long day..."

She really wasn't tired at all, but she barely held out until Riddick had closed her bedroom door behind him before she threw herself down on the bed and began to sob as quietly as she could.

What had she expected? To find him here as alone and as torn apart as she'd remained after he'd left?

Honestly, yes.

It had been comforting to think that maybe he'd missed her, maybe he'd take her into his arms like he used to when the nightmares were real bad. Like he did on the skiff, when she became delirious with fever before they were rescued by a cargo hauler.

How had the rest of her rhyme gone? Even though she'd said it to herself so many times as a child, and as a young adult on the run, some of the words were missing. She couldn't recall them on a whim.

She looked at the picture, of how the sunlight had so perfectly outlined her hero's old badass pose. Slowly with her finger she traced along his arm and his face, a single tear falling on the plastic frame protecting her memory from harm. God what she wouldn't give to live in that picture, protected from the world by something as simple as a picture frame.

"All the King's horses, and all the king's men..." she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she laid down with her cheek resting on the picture frame. "But you'd better suck it up Jackie girl, cause if ya slip...you know what'll happen to you..."

* * *

She'd fallen asleep with the light on, glaring down right in her eyes since she was lying on her back. That much she was used to. It was the reason why she'd never been to a sleepover in her life. So often she slept with the light on, it had become almost natural. Unfortunately most teenaged girls she knew didn't agree.

_Like to see them sleep in the dark after nearly getting picked to pieces by a giant hammerhead chicken._

What was really strange when she woke up was the sight of flowered wallpaper on the walls and the fancy frills all over everything. Imam was a simple man who lived in a simple home. All the excess made Jack a little sick to her stomach, especially when she thought about the fact that Riddick allowed it, seemed to welcome it. That wasn't HER Riddick, that wasn't what The Beast in him would've wanted.

"_Nothing big, nothing flashy, you want to survive out there you can't be drawing unnecessary attention to yourself kid. Don't do anything to make it easier for them to pick you out of a crowd than it already is, cause if they're good, they'll see ya. Every time."_

That was the voice of true reason, a voice she might never hear again. How long had it been before he left? Did he really stop talking to her for weeks? Or had it been months previous to the morning she woke up to go talk to him, to apologize, only to find him gone?

Jack sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she slowly faded back into the same old pattern.

Cry, sleep, wake up, miss Riddick, go eat ice cream.

Might have to throw some Tylenol in with the ice cream tonight. Oh yeah, then there was the fact that there simply wasn't any ice cream in the house. No booze either.

"Nooo," she groaned softly. "I've entered the inner circles of hell! Fuck you Shella, I swear you're Old Horny herself! And yes, the duel meaning does apply you Riddick stealing bitch!"

And speak of the she-devil, it was at that moment that Jack heard a garage door opening in the near vicinity. She was surprised, she'd thought she'd been asleep for several hours and it was the middle of Nehca's night. However, when she checked the chrono on her wrist it turned out to have only been about an hour since she'd dozed off.

Jack sighed, her letting her arm flop back down on the still-made bed. Now what? Would she go down and meet the wicked witch, or should she stay put and feign being asleep?

_Who am I? Richard B. Riddick gone soft, or Jack B. Badd_? _Pfft, puleeze! Jack B. Badd scared of some crack ho stripper turned Mrs. Brady? I don't think so!_

Jack forced herself to get up. It was time to make her claim as the new woman of the house. Because if Shella thought she was going to give Riddick up without a fight, then 'Shelly' sure as hell didn't know Jack!


	8. The Worth of a Promise

_I take it back, you can have him Shella_.

Jack couldn't help but be sickened and repulsed by the disgusting display of affection Riddick was sharing with his slut.

She's been slipping silently down the stairs when the fake blonde walked in the front door. And wouldn't ya know it, right off he kissed her. Not a real kiss, like in the movies, but one of those horribly overdone half-kisses that supposedly only the super rich and famous participate in. Then, he went on to proclaiming how he'd missed her so so so so so very much while they'd been apart during the day. And then, worst of all, there was the dog...

Jack typically liked dogs. If they'd been allowed at the complex where she and Imam had lived she would've gotten herself a Doberman long ago and named it Riddick. She probably would've bought it a spiked collar and everything. However, this was not a guard dog. It wasn't even a companion dog or a lap dog. No, it was something only Old Horny herself would desire to own. It was a yappy little bitch of a miniature poodle. The damn thing even had a ribbon bow on its head.

Shella was carrying the frilly fur ball under one arm when she walked in, and Riddick took it from her while she removed her light jacket.

"Oh Rick, you wouldn't believe the line I had to wait in to get Pooky in for her appointment. I'm just going to have to find a new groomer because Ms. Charlene's has absolutely gone to the dogs!" She laughed at her own joke, a high, nasally laugh that made Jack cringe. "And the worst part is that when I finally did get in, the woman who trimmed Pooker's nails cut them to the quick. I swear, they'll just hire anyone there these days..."

"Ah, poor baby!" Riddick crooned to Pooky, softly patting her head as he held her gently in the crook of his arm.

"No fucking way," Jack said in honest horror, slowly shaking her head with disbelief.

Shella, who'd been all set to further baby the dog even while Riddick held it snapped her head around sharply.

"Who're you?" she asked rather abruptly, fiercely.

Jack turned an annoyed look in Riddick's direction, cocking her head slightly. "You didn't tell her I was coming? That's fucking great. Do the honors Ricky, cause you ain't gonna like it if I've got to do it."

Riddick immediately cleared his throat. "Um, oh, I'm so sorry baby. With all the pressure to get that new project done at work I forgot to tell you that..."

"You went and picked Jack up from the spaceport? We talked about this Rick, you agreed to leave her there so she would go back to New Mecca. We can't have her in our house!"

"Yeah, um, I'm right here Shella, I can hear everything you're saying," Jack broke in before their lover's quarrel could really get rolling. "And if it makes you feel any better, the dickwad made me wait for over two hours before deciding to grace me with his presence; and when he finally did he just about scared the living shit outta me! More importantly, I am here now, and if you think for one second that you're gonna..."

"You watch your language young lady!" Old Horny snapped, pointing an accusatory finger in Jack's direction as she began to glare. "There will be no swearing in my house, do you understand that? Now go to your room, I will deal with YOU later!"

Jack's jaw dropped. No one had spoken to her with such disrespect, such malice, since before the Hunter-Grazner crashed. In Imam's house, it never would've happened.

"Listen," Riddick began weakly, but Jack was just sure he wouldn't let that one slide. No way did Shella wear the pants in this house, no fucking way!

"Jack, maybe you could go to your room for a little bit, and Shelly and I will talk about if you can stay..."

"IF I can stay? You told Imam you'd take care of me until I turn eighteen! If you don't I won't have anywhere to go! You made a promise Ricky, and a man is only as good as his promises!"

Shella crossed her arms over her chest, huffing as she rolled her eyes. "Honestly, am I really going to have to put up with the religious ramblings put in your head by that holy man? Cut out the dramatic act, Jack. You don't belong here and you know it..." she concluded, studying her fake nails intently.

After a hard moment of silence during which no one made eye contact with anyone else Jack finally spoke, her voice soft. "Rick taught me that a man who has nothing to give but his word is only as good as the promises he keeps. There was one time when all Rick had was his word, and even though he never lied, I was the only one who believed him. And I guess...that means now no one believes him." After shooting a long and hard stare in Riddick's direction Jack slowly turned, walking back up the stairs as she fought the tears burning hot in her eyes.

Riddick watched Jack ascend the stairs, her pain obvious in her slow step, the way she hung her head. He felt terrible. Old feelings that he'd long since forgotten stirred up within him when she reminded him of that time, when Johns had poisoned everyone against him. Everyone but Jack.

If not for her total and unshakable trust in him she would've died, he would've died. He'd made it to the skiff, powered it up, told himself not to look back. He still wondered if he would've taken off, left them there.

The look on Shella's face was one of utter disgust. "Seriously Rick, you've got to get rid of her. Call the holy man and tell him he's got to take her back!"

Impending argument. Oh how much he wished to avoid it. Whenever that happened his mind went oddly blank, like he just couldn't think of anything to say. So he didn't say anything. Avoidance maybe, maybe that was why a decision like this usually would've been made at his girlfriend's whim.

"I—I can't baby," he said softly, somehow almost afraid of her impending wrath.

Shelly pursed her lips, her arms crossing over her chest once again. "And just why would that be?" She was a demanding bitch at times, that much was for sure.

Riddick licked his lips, as they suddenly seemed far too dry. "Because, I owe her," he replied simply before walking to the kitchen, suddenly feeling the need to have a drink.

He'd gone too long without the Hydrite today, forgot to take it with him to the spaceport. Probably got dehydrated or something, that was why his hands would've been shaking had he not been holding the dog.

Riddick wasn't one to dwell on the past, but from deep within his memories and the haze they were locked in he heard her screams like it was yesterday.

_Riddick! Riddick, I'm not leaving without you, please come back! Please! I need you!_

He got up after Carolyn was torn away from him only because she'd called for him so desperately, because she'd needed him. Someone had actually needed HIM. Her cries had been his light in the darkness, and no matter how scattered his mind became, that fact he would NEVER forget.


	9. The Big Bad Wolf

Jack laid awake most of the night. Space lag. Strange how when she'd been twelve or thirteen and jumping planet every few weeks it hadn't bothered her nearly so much.

She had her stuffed brown bear to keep her company, she never went anywhere without him. Bear had lost and gained a multitude of names over the years. The one that had stuck the longest was Lil' Evil, or LE, pronounced Lee.

Jack squeezed Lee tight, remembering the day Riddick gave him to her. He'd just been switched to the night shift at the club he was working at, promoted to head bouncer. He wasn't going to be around when she woke up screaming in the night anymore, so the day he had to tell her he got her a teddy bear to try to make up for it. She'd been a little crushed at the time. Back then they'd only been off T2 for a little over six months, and Jack was still being sent running to Riddick's room in fits of terror at least twice a week.

_Strange how those nightmares never faded_

Riddick had tried to be there for her back then. She would often eves drop on the late night conversations he would have with Imam, during which the Holy Man would instruct the ex-convict in the proper methods of calming and comforting a young teenaged girl. The first few times that she ended up in his bed, cowering under the covers, Riddick simply pretended to still be asleep. He allowed her to stay but acted like he didn't care.

In time, with experience and Imam's guidance, he became fairly adept at soothing her. When it was especially bad he'd guide her back to her own room, tuck her back into her own bed, and would rub her back in slow circles until she fell asleep. She missed that feeling of security more than anything.

And then there had been the times when paralysis would overtake her in the darkness, and she would lie still so the monsters wouldn't be able to see her. During one of those times he'd come to her, even though she thought her calls of his name would've been too soft to be heard, even through the thin walls of Imam's apartment.

He'd tapped her side through the blankets, signaling her to move over so there would be room in her small bed for him to lie down. It took her a long time to stop trembling, even with him there. She could barely remember the feel of his fingers smoothing her still-short hair. 

_"There're things in the universe to be afraid of Jack, millions of monsters waiting to grab you. But right now, I am the biggest, badist mother fucker around, and there ain't nothing that's gonna get past me."_

"I'm so scared all the time Riddick, I dream that I'm still there watching them die. Then I wake up and it's dark and I don't know if I can move because maybe it wasn't really a dream, maybe I am s—s—still back on that planet." Jack clutched at his big ribcage tighter, burying her face against his chest.

"Shh, don't worry. You're human, it's natural to be afraid, but don't you can't let the fear overtake you. Let it be your ally, not your weakness. You have to take the power, the adrenaline it gives you, and use it to keep yourself safe."

She'd chuckled a little bit at that, slightly comforted. "Actually, I was thinking that could be your job. Keep me safe Riddick?" She turned trusting eyes up at him, knowing he'd be able to see in the darkness even if he had his contacts in.

He'd taken a long moment to answer, drawing her head back against his chest, allowing his sharp senses to pick up on all the signs of life she made no matter how quiet she tried to be. Her heartbeat and breathing had both begun regulating. Her fear had slowly abated in his presence.

"Always Jack. I must've been meant for something, and everyday I'm starting to think more and more that it was to do just that. When I was in slam though, I never thought that freedom would mean checking for the boogie man under a teenage girl's bed."

"But you're so good at it."

"Yeah, I know. I'm really good at a lot of things, they were just never the right things at the right time."

"I disagree, I thought you being a mass murderer when those things were trying to eat my face off was perfect timing."

He'd chuckled, squeezing her upper arm. "Maybe kid, maybe." 

"What happened to him Lee?" Jack asked of her teddy bear, and as usual he was relatively unresponsive. "When did I lose Riddick? Where did he go? Cause he ain't here, I know that. Maybe he really did die on the planet, maybe it just me forever to notice." 

Tears filled her eyes, stinging as they threatened to overflow for the second time that night.

"And the worst part," she choked, slowly wiping away the first tear that slid silently down her cheek. "Is that I really loved him, fell for him hard the second I saw Johns forcing him blind and bound onto the Hunter-Grazner. He fought tooth and nail, never gave an inch for free even though it was hopeless. That was when I was just about to give up and turn myself in, and then I saw him and he was so amazing...And now he's beat, he's whipped..."

Jack gave into the sob that clenched her throat shut, trying to bite down on her lip so no one but Lee would hear.

"Now he's just as dead as I am." 

So, there was a girl. Must've been the one from the crash.

He'd watched her get out of the car and shoot a venomous glare at her host as he'd allowed her to walk in the door ahead of him. So, not just a visitor. Staying for a while perhaps? God he hoped so.

She was young, late teens at most, probably vulnerable. Most teenaged girls were. Conte smirked. A girl his age. It was almost like having Christmas come early. He'd been looking for a way in, and here was an almost sure one. Hell, Riddick might as well have gift wrapped it with a big red bow on top.

_I needed a break, now here's Little Red Riding Hood to guide me home. And who better to work her over than the big bad wolf himself?_

He chuckled wickedly. "Weak old man, really weak. I could put a bear trap next to your bed and I'll bet you'd step right into it first thing in the morning. And I'm sure that the new addition ain't gonna go over well with the lady of the house. But you're a lucky bastard, I'll give you that. Two beautiful girls in a home that ain't big enough for both of them. Catfight central, and I'll just bet they'll be fighting over you."

Conte's classic Cheshire Cat grin slowly spread over his face as he stretched large frame further across the back seat of the SUV he'd rented, taking a long pull off his beer. He couldn't help but have fantasies about...Shiela? Shella? Whatever. The resident bitch. 

During the multitude of spare time he had while sitting around watching the house he daydreamed about putting her in her place like it was nobody's business. Yup, he'd show her the true meaning of being with a badass son of a bitch in ways that the old man couldn't anymore.

Maybe he would, when the job was done. Maybe make her beg for it, then walk away and let her realize that she'd been nothing to him but an easy fuck. Probably not even the best one he'd ever had. Not even close. He'd broken women far tougher than her, mentally at least.

"This lil' psychofuck family's gonna just tear itself apart before I'm done here," he informed himself, rather pleased with the fact.

_Hmm, psychofuck family huh?_

It was starting to sound like he'd been putting in a few too many hours on surveillance and character profiling. Conte may have been young, but he knew full well it never hurt to know an enemy to such a degree that you could easily take on his mannerisms, habits, even a few of his catch phrases.

"Old catch phrases, R.B. Riddy hardly even cusses anymore. Too bad, from the sound of it he was a pretty talented trash talker."

Conte knew all about being talented at talking. He often did more than his share of it.

"Cause I can back it up," he concluded proudly, flexing one well rounded bicep for his own amusement. Laughing at his own joke he reclined a bit more, taking another slow sip of his beer. "Yup, these fuckers ain't even gonna know what hit um..."

Rather suddenly Conte smacked himself on the forehead in frustration. "Damn, I forgot the Twinkies! Of all the times to run out of junk food...stupid!" He smacked himself again, harder this time.

He'd never claimed to have the longest attention span in his field, just the longest record, the longest string of perfect jobs, and the longest...


	10. Pancakes with a Face

AN: This chapter is kind of short, but the next one will be longer, promise:-) It's also a little rough. Oh, and readers are allowed to smack Shella with the Frying Pan of Death(tm). I'll just look the other way. turns back and begins whistling

* * *

Jack climbed sleepily out of bed, padding out of her room and downstairs, heading for the kitchen. It had been a rough night sleep-wise and she looked it, hair tousled and eyes drooping. And upon entering the kitchen she immediately got the sinking suspicion that her day wasn't going to be any better.

"Shella, when you say that we need get rid of Jack it makes me feel ashamed. I feel that you need to respect my promise to take her in until she turns eighteen," Riddick said carefully, with a tone that was extremely calm and psychiatrist-like.

Shella was on a mad rampage going about making breakfast, which from the smell Jack guessed was going to be overcooked pancakes. She stalked about the kitchen like a bat out of hell, and yet somehow everything remained spotless and clean. Jack could only shake her head in wonder. How did the woman do it? This proved it, she really was a witch.

_Burn her at the stake! Stretch and quarter her! Put rocks on her chest until she suffocates! Do all of the above at the same time! Yeah, I wish. If only this were Salem._

"Listen Rick, I don't know how you got the notion in your head that you owe that little tramp, but you're being a total and complete idiot right now. Just trust me will you? I do the thinking around here, remember?" she half-shouted at the man sitting at her kitchen table.

"Now Shelly, don't forget that when we argue we need to use 'I' statements. Otherwise we're just bound to say something we'll regret later. I feel..."

"I don't think she gives a flying fuck how you feel Ricky," Jack interjected, trying to rub the tension headache out of her forehead as she crossed the room and sat down across from him.

"What have I told you about swearing in my house young lady!" Shella roared upon noticing Jack had entered the room.

Jack turned to cast a disinterested look her way, letting the moment stretch out. "Huh," she finally said, before turning to look up at the ceiling and then back down at the table's surface, studying it hard.

When Jack didn't respond to her question, Shella stopped flying around like a whirlwind and crossed her arms over her chest, tapping one foot impatiently.

"Well?" she demanded.

Jack glanced up again as though slightly startled. "Oh, I was just wondering when you were going to put the pole in the table."

"What pole?" Shella asked coolly.

Jack shrugged. "You know. The pole you're going to swing around on and practice various uncouth stunts and sexually suggestive positions in the near proximity of, all while seductively stripping your clothes off for money. Oh wait, I'm sorry, you must be a _retired_ stripper now. Tell me Shell, what exactly is it that retired strippers do with their spare time?" she asked, feigning extreme interest, her chin propped up on both hands.

Shella smirked evilly, but it wasn't hard to see the barely contained rage she was trying to hide beneath it. Slowly she approached where Jack was sitting, menace present even in the way she carried herself. Shella placed a hand on the table's wooden surface, getting right up in Jack's face. Her expression turned cold. Her face became stone-like with her anger and Jack couldn't help but think that Shelly was really quite ugly when she got angry.

"Listen up little girl, this is my home, that is my man, and there isn't a single thing in the universe you can do to take any of it away from me. We clear?"

Jack smirked, successfully hiding her own anger with pure ego. She had far better control mechanisms than this woman, and that meant she was the stronger of the two, she had the power here. Leaning forward slightly she cocked an eyebrow, never flinching in the face of the woman's hard stare. "Get bent bitch, cause Jack B. Badd is here to stay. You want it, you fight for it, and you fight hard. Cause if you give me an inch I'll take a yard, you give me a yard I'll take everything you've got. And you'd better believe I will."

"Not going to happen," Shella hissed, her eyes narrowing almost into snake-like slits.

Jack didn't even bat an eye. She was determined to win this stare down. "We'll see 'Shelly'. Now get me my God damn breakfast before it catches on fire."

After a tense moment Shella backed off, going over to the stove and angrily putting a short stack of pancakes on a plate. She banged it down on the table in front of Jack, who studied the blackened blueberry concoction. Funny how the berries were all grouped together instead of spread evenly throughout the batter. They almost were in the right places to be eyes and a badly smashed nose.

Jack looked up at her re-sworn enemy with a pleasant expression on her face. "On second thought, never mind. I simply can't bear to eat anything with a face! Well, I'd better get going, I want to explore the town a little before the rest of my stuff gets here this afternoon," she quickly announced, jumping up and making an exit just as the real explosion came to pass. On Riddick's head this time, not hers.

_Well, ya kinda had it coming Big Evil, so I don't feel too sorry for ya. Serves ya right for not standing up for yourself. _

Jack felt better now that the first battle had come and gone. That had been the one she'd feared the most. After all, she'd never been very good at playing the vicious games women sometimes became involved in. But already that morning she'd stood on the level with Shella, and her opponent had blinked first. It was a sure sign of weakness and now that Jack could smell blood in the water she was going to go after it with everything she had. The war had officially started, the lines had been drawn.

The prize for the winner? Riddick. All of it came down to Riddick. The only question left in Jack's mind was whether or not he was worth it anymore.


	11. The Wolf

AN--A subspecies human is a being from a colony that has been transplanted from Earth for enough generations that its inhabitants are no longer strictly classified as "homosapians". They may have evolved certain characteristics over time not typical of a human from Earth or from a more recently established human colony.

* * *

"All. The. Fucking. King's. Horses. And...I hate her, I hate her, I hate her! Ahhh, bitch!" Jack growled, just about ready to break the offending door down. She gave it a good solid kick, only to find that it was made of a very hard material. She hopped a couple times, holding her foot, barely able to keep herself from screaming her rage and frustration so loud the neighbors would come running. 

She'd returned to Riddick's house after an hour of exploring the nearby area, only to find when she got back that Shella had deactivated her access to the front door's scanner.

Soon after she'd arrived Riddick had programmed her handprint into the scanner so she could unlock the door. And now both Riddick and the witch were at work and Jack's hand print wasn't freaking registering. And the worst part was that it was still only nine thirty in the morning. She was going to be locked out all day!

"You bitch! I know you did this, it was working last night! Ah, I hate her!" Having not learned her lesson the first time she kicked the door with the other foot, however not quite so hard this time.

"Got a problem sugar?"

Jack's head snapped around as a smooth voice touched her ears. She instantly became suspicious because she hadn't noticed anyone walking up. Yet there he was, just a handful of feet away from her, standing with his back perfectly straight and his hands clasped behind him. It was Mr. tall, dark, and handsome himself. A smirk that might've been mistaken for cocky was gracing his strong features, but somehow it suited him, fit his style. A pair of black sunglasses matched his leather jacket, faded jeans, and black work boots; never mind his thick shock of obsidian colored hair.

Jack really couldn't help but stare at him, blinking once or twice in disbelief.

Who did this guy think he was? The Fonz?

"I'm fine," Jack half-snapped. She didn't care if this guy was hotter than anything but Riddick, she wasn't going to fall into his lap all damsel-in-distress like.

He shrugged. "Alright, you're fine. I was just wondering if you knew that Mr. Costello works at the Sampson Inc. firm downtown. I figured if you did you could just go call him, ya know? Maybe then he could help you get into his house. I assume that you're not trying to rob him, right?" he asked, chuckling.

Jack couldn't help but smile a little too, forced to admit to herself that this guy who was paying attention to her was pretty damn good looking. And even though she didn't necessarily want it to...her body was definitely noticing. "Yeah, thanks...whoever you are."

_"Always question people who know more than they should, especially if they don't willingly provide you with a full name when it's appropriate."_

"Conte, Dom Conte," the man said politely, stepping forward and out of his military-rest stance to offer her a hand to shake.

Jack paused, having almost forgotten that shaking hands was still customary among humans from Earth. She'd only seen it actually done once, when Paris shook hands with Riddick back on T2. Both of them were from Earth though, so this man must be as well.

She took his hand, shaking it cautiously. "Jackie al-Walid, nice to meet you."

His grip was firm, but pleasantly cool. "Nice to meet you too, Jackie."

"Call me Jack," she said, hoping she sounded at ease. Cause she wasn't.

_"If you run into someone who knows far more than they should, and they do give you a full name, that means that you're probably fucked because they're a true professional. Especially if they're really on the level, they don't miss a beat. But, on the other hand, they might just be an incredibly self-confident but ordinary person. You just can't be too careful..."_

_He's got cool hands Riddick, what's that mean?_

"So, how do you know so much about Rick anyway? You live around here?" she asked, casually motioning to indicate that she meant the neighborhoods nearby.

Dom just smiled, briefly inclining his gaze towards the ground as a sign of modesty, or possibly shyness; Jack wasn't entirely sure which. "Ah, something like that. I got a friend who lives down the street a ways. Kid named Mike Daniels who mows the lawn for Mr. Costello sometimes. I came over here to see if he was home. I was gonna ask if his company's going to have any part time jobs this fall for a kid like me. Looks like I'm gonna be on this planet for a while, so I figure I might as well start planning ahead."

Jack nodded, accepting his story. "Ah huh. So, you in college or what?" she asked. A kid like him? The guy looked twenty three at least!

Conte chuckled. Dang, Little Red Riding Hood was smart. He was willing to bet his charm won her over eventually, but from the sound of it Riddick had taught her well. Before he'd gone soft.

"Na, I never made it out of high school. I'm just not that bright I guess. I'm something of a drifter, going around from place to place whenever I feel like it. I have to live out of a ship, but other than that it's great. Oh hey, are you eighteen yet? I was just wondering cause if ya are then it would be way cool if you'd get me and some of my buddies some liquor," he said, trying to put her at ease by letting her know they were approximately the same age.

Jack examined him skeptically, cocking one eyebrow. "You think _you_ would get carded? Just how old _are_ you Mr. Conte?"

Dom shrugged, again turning his gaze downward, pretending to place his concentration on scuffing the cement with his boot. "Ah, I look older than I am. I'm subspecies human, so I grew up a little faster than most of my friends. Physically, anyway. But really I'm only seventeen. I know I look like twenty, but a lot of these places card anyone who looks under thirty. Too many penalties if they do get caught selling to minors, ya know?"

"A subspecies human that came from Earth?" Jack asked, wondering if she was going to need to start running and screaming bloody murder in another second or two. Her muscles tensed as she prepared to fight or fly.

Conte furrowed his eyebrows a bit, but yet somehow kept his slightly amused look about him. "When did I say I was from Earth? I don't honestly know where I'm from. I got bounced around so much after my parents died, I just sort of lost track."

Internally Jack groaned.

_Way to go Jackie girl, brilliant move. Dredge up bad memories for this poor guy who's just trying to help you by acting all suspicious. You know, this just might be why you never made any friends in school._

"I'm sorry Dom, I—I used to be a runaway. It's hard for me, to trust people. My parents are dead too," she confided softly, hoping that made it better. Maybe she could identify with him, maybe they could even be friends. If she didn't screw it up first.

He smiled, shaking his head at her. "Hey, it ain't no big deal. You're talking to a permanent runaway, having you be suspicious of me seems normal. When I talk to people who just accept every word I say I almost feel like I'm stealing from them..."

"I know, it's like you could snatch their ID, their wallet, and their pass-card without them ever noticing or suspecting you'd done it, and it would probably take the poor fool days to figure out they'd been had, right?" Jack finished for him, feeling a strange calm wash over her upon finding a kindred spirit. The fact that she was locked out of Riddick's house was temporarily forgotten.

Dom laughed. "So you weren't just a runaway, you were a thief too. I guess that comes with the territory. You think you're good enough to pick my pocket?" he challenged lightly, and Jack decided right then she was going to give it a whirl before she let him get away.

"Oh, I'm so rusty I doubt I could," she said, shrugging a bit. "I got taken in by a holy man four years ago, and for some reason all my bad habits eventually went out the window after that. I used to steal Rid-Rick's wallet all the time though, before he left to move here. It was my favorite game," she remarked softly, her eyes slowly glazing over with the memory.

Dom watched her from behind his shades as she sadly reminisced. Good thing she couldn't see his eyes, he had a feeling she'd notice that they were cold, calculating. They did at times serve as a window to the fine line between genius and insanity that lay within him. Since she did seem to be a girl with a head on her shoulders it would probably be in his best interest that she not see what they really looked like. She'd likely notice that they never missed anything, even when he seemed to be looking away. Not much got past Dominic Conte. Not even her little slip. It seemed that 'Jackie' was very aware of the fact that Rick Costello was Richard B. Riddick. All the better for him. And the more she trusted him, the more she would tell him. Going on about her past was perfect.

_Don't get attached._ The Beast inside him growled. In response he almost let down his carefully constructed wall. He almost allowed the displeasure of that thought to show through on his face. Almost, but not quite. His control was perfect. That was why he was the best.

_Can't get attached if I don't have a heart, they don't call me Le Diablé for nothing you know... _he silently answered the darkest part of his being, and for the moment it was satisfied.

He'd allowed several seconds of silence to pass, usually a thing to be avoided with young informers at all cost. He was supposed to keep her feeling comfortable while she was with him. Fortunately she too was lost in thought, either that or she was staring at him because she found him attractive. Perhaps a little bit of both.

"So, what would you say to taking the bus downtown?" he asked off the cuff, his trademark smile slipping back into place. Time to get back to playing the game.

Jack startled back to attention. "Huh? Oh, what for?" she asked. She'd been lost in thought for a moment. Lost in thoughts of how Riddick might've started out like Dom, wondering the galaxy like a runaway.

She couldn't quite pinpoint exactly why, but for some reason it felt okay to trust this Conte guy.

_Don't be coy Jackie, you know why you trust him. It's cause he's cocky and smooth. Cause he's like Riddick used to be. Another round of hero worship, hmm Jack? Can't have that happen, doubt your heart could take it._

Conte shrugged. "Well, I wanted to ask Mr. Costello about getting a job, and you want to get back in your house. I don't have anything better to do today, so I figured we could go together. Besides, I could give you a tour of downtown. Of the parts of downtown I know anyway," he said invitingly, and Jack smiled back at him.

"Yeah, that would be great," she said as she stepped down off the front porch and fell in step with her new escort.

Conte smiled, offering his arm to her, like a gentleman might, thinking that it was all too easy.

_Just like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Except this might be the one girl in the galaxy who'd actually like the wolf better than her grandmother._


	12. A Business Card For You

* * *

It wasn't more than an hour before they were standing outside the five story office building that housed Sampson Inc. Jack craned her neck, wondering which floor Riddick's office was on.

Conte's com started ringing just at that moment, and he had to briefly search his pockets to find it. Finally he pulled it from a pocket in his jeans and answered it. "This is Conte. Yeah, I'm in town. Na, I can't, I'm doing something right now. Uh huh, right."

Jack listened with mild disinterest. Whoever was on the other end of the line sounded pissed at her new...friend?

Conte grimaced a bit, as though he wasn't enjoying what he was hearing very much at all. "Yeah, fine. I said fine didn't I? I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Yeah, I'll see ya." Slowly he hung up. All the energy he'd possessed during the animated tour he'd given her of the downtown area was suddenly gone, drained away by whatever news he'd just received.

"Listen, Jack. That was my boss, from my other job. He says he needs me to work right now. Someone called in sick or something."

"Sorry to hear that," Jack sympathized. She'd had her share of part time jobs, none of which had come with bosses who treated her like she was a human being with human needs. Such as the need for time off now and then...

However, right then what she was most concerned about was the fact that the one person she actually was getting along with on the entire planet was about to leave her alone again.

Just as he turned to go she remembered something she'd nearly forgotten, and called after him. When he turned back around she tossed him his wallet. Conte caught it easily with one hand.

He'd been a little shocked that she'd actually managed to pinch it off of him, but he had noticed when she'd taken it. That didn't mean it hadn't been a good pick, Dom just happened to be a professional. But it wasn't like he could afford to let her catch on to him. Still, he hadn't been robbed since, when? Not since Juvy Slam, when he was eight or nine probably. Even back then the bigger kids had to beat him till he was half dead to get anything out of him.

Dom smiled a little. It really was too bad he had to use this girl. He was just getting to like her. "So, I guess you're not as rusty at picking pockets as you thought, huh?"

Jack shrugged, biting her lip to keep herself from grinning like an idiot. "I guess not. I snatched it on the bus, when I lost my balance and knocked into you. So, will I see you around?" she asked, a disappointed calm settling over her as she realized she may well never see him again. Things like that had happened to her often in the past.

Dom chuckled, for real, not as an act. It had been a long time since another person had actually made him laugh. Thus was the sacrifice of working in his line of business. Especially working _solo_ in his line of business. "You can count on it, Jack," he said, just barely loud enough for her to hear. Then he turned and headed up the street, quickly fading into the crowd.

Jack sighed morosely, spending a few seconds wishing that he would reappear. For the company, yes. But also because she was once again finding herself on the verge of facing Riddick alone, and a new case of nerves was just starting to hit her.

Shella she could handle without fear, no problem. Riddick? Well, apparently he still mattered.

* * *

It hadn't been hard to find him. The receptionist had been a pleasant woman and gave her detailed directions on how to reach his office. Jack found it a few moments later, running into far fewer people than she thought she would. None of them questioned the fact that she might not belong there.

Ironically enough she found herself looking for a door with Richard B. Riddick written on it. It wasn't until she saw the name Richard Costello that she realized the error in that type of thinking. Jack slowly shook her head, rolling her eyes at herself. "I'll bet you'd expect to find his name in the intergalactic phonebook too. Jeez, Jack. Pull it together."

She took a breath, then opened the door, slipping in quietly incase he was on the phone or something. He wasn't, just sitting there pouring over blueprints. Still, she was reluctant to say anything. He hadn't noticed when she walked in. Just another sign of how far he'd slipped. Used to be she couldn't get anything past him, no matter how hard she tried.

Jack cleared her throat to gain his attention. Riddick looked up, surprised to see her. He'd obviously been very absorbed in his work.

"Oh, Jack. What're you doing here?" he asked, sounding a little confused.

"I got locked out of the house," she said, and even to her ears it sounded a little stupid.

Riddick quirked an eyebrow. "You got locked out of the house?"

Jack nodded, taking a seat in one of the grey leather chairs facing Riddick's desk. "Um, yeah. I tried the scanner like ten times and it wouldn't unlock the door. I think maybe there was like a power surge or something. Or maybe Shella deleted my handprint from the computer's databank. You know, something like that." She pretended to be offhanded about the accusation, knowing that Riddick wouldn't buy it. Not unless he'd fallen into an even darker place than she thought he had.

He'd have to notice that one.

"Now Jack, I'm sure that it was..."

"I don't care how psychobabble 'rediscovered' you've become Ricky, you aren't stupid. You know damn well she deleted my hand print from the computer and she did it because I pissed her off this morning."

"I suppose that could be true. Shella feels threatened by you. She knows that you and I knew each other before I met her and she is prone to a bit of jealousy."

Jack almost cheered out loud. Finally! He'd _FINALLY_ admitted the glaring and blatantly obvious! Now she just had to work on the subtleties A LOT and they'd be all hunky dory again.

"But..." he continued.

Shit, that didn't sound good.

"...Shella is a good person. She has her flaws just like everyone else. I'm sure that once she sees how well the three of us can get along she'll warm up to the idea of you staying with us. I'd like it if the two of you became friends. I know you haven't had a mother figure in your life for a long time Jack..."

"Rick, she's only like eight years older than me, ten at most. She ain't no mother figure, and I don't want one," Jack stated, hoping that would be the end of _THAT_.

Riddick gave her a disapproving 'this isn't helping' look.

Jack was just realizing that her eye roll was quickly becoming trademark, but still wasn't quite able to refrain from doing it yet again. "Okay, so you're right. I suppose Shella is technically a good person. I mean, it's not like she's a mass murderer or something," she commented with mild sarcasm while pretending to give the ceiling a through examination.

Was he going to let that one slip by? Apparently he was. Riddick only shook his head. "Just trust me when I say it's going to be alright, Jack. Listen, I can't take you home right now, so why don't you go and check out your new school? It's only five blocks north of here, and it's really easy to find. By the time you get back I'll probably be able to take my lunch break and drive you over to the house. How did you get here anyway?" he asked, his brows knitting slightly almost with, what? Worry? Concern?

Jack shrugged, subconsciously chewing on her thumbnail. "I came on the bus with a guy who's a friend of a neighbor kid. Mike Daniels, I think? Dom said he mows your lawn."

Riddick leaned forward, letting both his elbows rest on the top of his desk, folding one fist into the palm of his opposite hand. "Mows my lawn? Oh right, Mike. Yeah, I know him. Good kid, just haven't seen him around for a while. And this guy, Dom, he's a friend of Mike's?"

Jack shrugged, moving on to chewing the nail on her index finger. "Yeah, as far as I can tell. He said he wanted to ask you if he could get a job with Sampson Inc. I guess he's planning on staying planet-side for a while and he needs another job. I was a little suspicious at first, but he seems like a really cool guy. He gave me a tour of downtown during the bus ride. Paid for my fare and everything..."

"Jack, I thought you stopped chewing your nails a long time ago." Riddick shifted so his jaw was resting on one fist as he studied her. He had no interest in who Dom was, that was apparent enough.

_He should want to know, he used to be almost paranoid about that kind of thing._

Jack pulled her hand away from her mouth, just realizing what she'd been doing herself. It had been a long time since she'd fallen into the habit. So long she could hardly remember the last time she'd done it. Riddick and Imam used to get on her about it all the time after they'd been settled in on New Mecca for a while.

Turning his attention away from her Riddick shuffled some of his papers around on his desk, looking through them. "Anyway, tell that Dom guy that if he wants an application for the mailroom or whatever, I'll get him one. Actually, maybe it would be a good idea if you worked here too, Jack. It's not too far from the high school and I could give you a ride home when you're done. I work late lots of nights."

Jack tilted her head to one side, considering that suggestion for a moment. "Sure, that sounds okay." What the heck, a job was a job. She could always use some cash. Besides the fact that relying on Riddick for money wasn't exactly her idea of fun.

And who knew, she and Dom might end up working together. That had the potential to be interesting at the very least.

"Well," Riddick said, still in all-business mode. "I'd better get back to work now. I have a meeting I've got to be ready for here in a few minutes. Here, take this," he said, sliding a card across his desk.

Jack got up, picking up the business card. "For in case I get lost, right?" she speculated, slipping the card into her back pocket where it was least likely to get bent or torn.

"Something like that," Riddick confirmed, opening his briefcase on his desk and arranging the things he would need for his meeting neatly inside.  
Jack took this as her cue to leave, and slipped out the door just as quietly as she'd entered moments earlier.

She was almost grateful to escape. Riddick-at-work wasn't nearly so bad as Riddick-at-home, but he was still stuffy, stiff. Besides, a nice walk to clear her head wasn't sounding half bad. She just hoped her school would end up being placed in a nice neighborhood.

Jack bet that if Shella had any hand in picking it out, she'd probably be dealing with an old south-side inner city of Chicago type high school. She'd just better hope to Allah that Riddick had done his homework on the local education centers.

It wasn't like she'd had a whole lot of luck staying out of trouble in the good schools she'd attended, never mind the bad ones.


	13. Make Me

AN: Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed. It is incredibly motivational to hear that people actually like your stuff! Lol.

* * *

Jack's first impression of her high school that morning was a good one. It was nice, clean, surrounded by houses that were relatively small, but well kept. The building itself didn't look to be more than a few years old.

At registration two days later she got a chance to see the inside, and was equally impressed. None of the schools she'd ever seen on New Mecca had been so up-to-date. And she had seen a few schools in the capital. She got kicked out of two of them before she was fourteen and a half. She later ended up transferring out of a third.

It was good to see that for once her old records hadn't been lost, and there weren't any problems encountered while she was getting registered. She was assigned a locker, had a school ID made for her, and was given a class schedule that she immediately stuffed into a pocket on her cargos. Jack had always believed it was unlucky to look at a schedule before the first day of school. Besides the fact that she never liked her schedule and couldn't get it fixed until school started anyway.

Since it was a relatively large school Jack wasn't really surprised that no one approached her to introduce themselves. As far as she was concerned that was just fine. When she wanted to meet people, she would. No sense in rushing it. Besides, one school term wasn't that long. Eventually she was just going to be uprooted again, and then she would have to start over somewhere else, once again not knowing anyone. That much she was used to.

* * *

Riddick picked her up after she got done with registration. Little was said during the drive home. That was how it had been for two whole days. Near silence between all members of the household.

Jack grimaced. Well, not quite all of them.

_It's not like I can't hear them 'communicating' at night in their room down the hall. Damn Old Horny really knows how to rub it in that she and Riddick are having the best make-up sex of their lives, and it's all because of me._

That was about the only part of Riddick's image that remained intact for her. Like she'd always imagined, he definitely could keep a woman satisfied. How many times already had she walked into a room to find them both flushed? And the night before Jack had lain awake for three hours listening to them...

Another grimace.

_Why am I thinking about this again?_

For no good reason, that was for sure. Jealousy, perhaps? That thought almost made Jack snicker. Her, jealous of what Shella had? Yeah, that made sense. She was totally jealous that Shelly owned the face, the body of a formerly great man. What did she care when Riddick's soul no longer resided behind that face, in that body?

Jack had decided she didn't care. It was safer that way. It hurt less.

"Jack. Jaaaack. Anybody home?"

Oh, Riddick was talking. Waving a hand in front of her face too. Apparently it was time to disengage her brain, perhaps even stop thinking altogether. It got too depressing as she was occasionally reminded of the man she used to know. "Huh? What?" she finally asked, feigning the turning of her full attention in his general direction.

Riddick snickered, picking up his bottle of Hydrite with one hand, the other still on the wheel. "I was going to ask you how registration went. Get everything squared away?" he asked, taking a sip of the red liquid, glancing over at her briefly.

Jack shrugged, instinctively biting her thumb nail. She was beginning to do it often when he spoke to her, like she used to do all the time when adults would talk to her. Especially while she was a skittish runaway with frazzled nerves. "Yeah, it went okay. It's a really nice school. I had this crazy idea about trying out for volleyball, but I thought I should get settled in with doing my homework first and then see about sports. If I get a job, I don't know if I'll be able to fit anything else into my schedule."

Riddick nodded, spinning the cap expertly back onto the Tupperware bottle. Jack realized he must drink out of it often while driving to have become so well practiced, but for the moment didn't think anything of it.

"That's true. You don't want to get overloaded. Oh, by the way, I have those applications for internships and part time jobs with Sampson Inc in my office. Why don't you swing by after school on Monday and pick them up?"

"Sure," Jack agreed absently, hoping that was the end of the conversation. She turned towards the window, once again resuming her through examination of the scenery outside it.

_You know, he really is a nice guy now. So what's the big deal? That he's domesticated? Maybe you should just let him live his life, Jack. Don't be the jealous tramp Shella thinks you are._

Jack sighed. If only it were that simple. She just couldn't shake the odd feeling that something wasn't right. It tugged at the back of her mind even more strongly than she thought jealousy would. And it wasn't the sticky 'you know you have no right to feel this way' sort of gross feeling. It was a sense of panic, alarm. There were pieces to this puzzle that were missing, and she'd never know what was truly eating at her until she found them, put them all together.

_You're chasing a ghost._

_Shut up. I loved that ghost._

"Jack."

She didn't even look up. What was the point anymore? She wasn't going to see him in those eyes. They weren't even the right color. "Yeah, Riddick?"

"Quit biting your nails, kid," he rumbled, his tone stern but not angry.

A moment of silence passed during which Jack pulled her hand away from her face and then very deliberately turned to look at Riddick straight on for the first time that afternoon, annoyance clearly visable in her cool gaze.

"Make me, Dick."

* * *

The weekend was horrible. Riddick and Shella were both home, although Shella did go shopping most of Saturday afternoon, allowing Jack to finally slip out of the sanctuary of her room for a little while and watch TV with Riddick.

Avoidance was the game she was playing with the little lady, and it wasn't a game she was enjoying.

_Way to go, Jackie. Ya won the first battle, and now you're losin' the war. First rate right there._

It wasn't so much fear that kept her at a distance, more like dread. Dread of the battles she knew would come, but she could not possibly win as long as Riddick remained so...catatonic. He couldn't even fight for himself in the slightest anymore, and Jack knew that it would take all her strength to do the fighting for both of them. But in the end, that was what would have to be done. It was just a matter of when. In all her life her endurance had never been so tested. But she hadn't survived T2 for nothing. She would prove to all of them that she was the strongest of them all.

Riddick offered to take her to his anger management meeting on Saturday night, and Jack almost accepted as an excuse to get out of the house. However, in the end she decided to lock herself in the room, hoping she wouldn't end up getting caught alone in the house with Old Horny. Not that the bitch behaved herself any better when Riddick was there, but Jack felt stronger when she could tell herself that she couldn't be weak in front of him.

_Leading by example, huh? Except, I doubt that Riddick would've taken such a round about way of dealing with this problem. You're stalling. And worst of all, you don't even have a plan._

It couldn't be helped. Things were different in girl fights. And honestly, Jack would take a good old fight to the death any day over all this cloak and dagger shit.

And in those moments, when she started to question whether or not she had the energy for any of it, she would begin to recite from the beginning...

"Jack B. Badd sat on a wall..."


	14. The Underdog

* * *

The first day of school wasn't exactly one of Jack's more shining moments. It started off bad, and only got worse. 

Riddick had to drop her off an hour early because he had a meeting he just _had_ to attend. So, she ended up sitting around the lobby on a bench for what seemed like forever. She watched as other kids arrived, welcoming each other into a new school year with hugs, high fives, and the pleasant chatter that came so easily between groups of friends.

Jack resumed playing her well-rehearsed part of being a small piece of everyone else's background. Again she allowed her eyes to wonder, taking in brick patterns in the walls, the smell of fish sticks cooking in the cafeteria, bits of random conversation that floated her way. This was what she did best. Watched, and waited. Observing, constantly observing.

And wouldn't ya know it, one of the first things she observed was an undersized freshman girl being beaten on by a group of senior boys. Thick, rolled up calendars they'd swiped from the office were their weapons of choice; and small, outsider-type freshmen obviously their victim of choice.

Jack considered leaving well enough alone and doing nothing, just like everyone else. Why should she be the one senior sticking up for the little stupid freshmen? If they couldn't handle themselves, that was their problem, not hers.

_You'd better get USED to fighting for the underdog kiddo. You ain't gonna be no help to Riddick if you don't. Besides, making a statement the first day isn't always a bad thing. Make sure they know what they're dealing with if they decide to fuck with you here too. And you KNOW they will._

Jack got up, leaving her pack where it was. She strolled casually over to where the so-called young men were taking it to the freshman. The girl was a scrawny kid, nearly in tears by the time Jack reached the outskirts of the event. She was trying desperately to curl up on the floor in a ball to lessen the hurt. Already she'd given up fighting.

_Why are you fighting for this kid again? Should just let her learn how to stick up for herself, you'd be doing her a favor. They aren't really hurting her, mostly just scaring the hell out of her. Those rolled up newspapers probably don't even leave a good bruise._

Jack paused a few feet away from them, crossing her arms over her chest. "Hey, assholes," she said smoothly without any anger seeping into her tone. No anger, but plenty of command. A trick she'd learned from Riddick.

The boys looked up, snickering when they saw her. The biggest one, a red headed boy with a stud earring in his left ear gave her a rather charming grin. It wasn't hard to see through to the ugliness behind it. "Yes, sugar? Something you need?"

Jack almost laughed. So, she had a tough guy on her hands. Somehow she wasn't impressed, especially since at one point in time she'd known the real deal. And these mama's boys weren't it.

"Yeah, you could say that," she continued, hoping he would play into her hands if she gave him enough rope. Maybe hang himself too, while he was at it.

When she didn't say anything more earring boy cocked his head slightly to one side, his smile never slipping. "And what would that be?"

Jack tapped her chin with her index finger as though deep in thought, her eyes roaming the ceiling tile directly above her head. "Hmm, what do I want? Well, I think that maybe I want you to pick on someone your own size."

Big Red and his posse of friends roared with laughter. Jack wasn't impressed, but no one would know that by looking at her face. She was mimicking the slightly amused look that Dominic Conte had given her just the other day, the one that had reminded her so much of Riddick-the-murderer.

"You want me, to pick on someone my own size? And who exactly would that be?"

Jack snickered. Here came the fun part. "I think that would be me, asshole," she informed him ungraciously, winking to throw little gasoline on the fire. Might as well make it interesting if she was going to bother.

They really let loose then, just about laughed her out of the lobby. And it didn't look like there would be any end in sight to their hyena-like behavior until she stepped up to the plate and without missing a beat decked Big Red with a quick, solid, haymaker to the temple. Then, they shut up. Then, the whole lobby shut up.

When he was down on the floor, dazed and confused about what had just happed to him, Jack kicked him hard in the face. She held back a little only because she didn't really want to kill him. That wouldn't exactly do her any good. Going to prison the first day of school somehow just didn't appeal to her.

Projectile blood spurt out of his nose and mouth, covering her black leather boot. Since this kind of thing happened to her relatively often she'd never stopped copying Riddick in her selection of clothes. Blood had a tendency to leave nasty stains. Besides, in Jack's opinion, black went with everything.

He rolled away from her, screaming and yelling in pain, tears suddenly gushing forth along with the blood. Jack kicked him again, in the ribs this time, keeping him rolling right along. This was what he deserved, what every bully deserved for picking on someone smaller than them. And now that Jack's blood was flowing hot through her veins, it was time to release a little tension on this bully, using her imagination to put Shella's face in place of his. Just the way she liked it. This was the part she was addicted to.

"Having fun now, asshole?" she half-yelled, punctuating her sharp words with stiff kicks to his torso. She wanted to make sure he didn't get_ too_ comfortable down there. "You like it when some mean fucking bitch comes along and kicks the living shit out of you? Huh? Do ya? Just so you know, I'm having a grand ol' time right now and I think I could do this All. Fucking. Day! Beg for mercy, asswipe, and maybe I'll let you go home to your mother without too many broken bones."

With a final kick he rolled into the wall, no longer able to retreat any farther away from her. On his belly he whimpered and cried, unable to prostrate himself any more and unable to get away from this relentless she-devil. Surely the teachers would come soon to save him? Surely anyone would come to save him?

Jack stared down at him, her eyes cold, her heart unfeeling. This sort of thing happened to her sometimes. She would start out wanting to make a point and it would end up skyrocketing into something far bigger. They shouldn't have laughed, they should've known not to fuck with her. The compassionate human being she prided herself on being most of the time didn't extend to these periods when she lost her cool totally and completely. She hadn't survived on the street because she was warm-hearted. She'd survived because she could block out everything but what needed to be done, leaving regret and guilt for later. She'd survived because when she got pissed she could whip a boy twice her size without mercy or relent, and she could do it well.

Through dozens of fights Jack had learned that the only secret to winning, more often than not, was the willingness to cause more pain to an opponent than they'd ever dreamed of experiencing.

That was what she did to Big Red. She hit him fast, hard, and didn't stop when he was down. She beat him for a whole fifteen seconds and broke his will. City kids were easy, they didn't have much grit to start with. Then there was the fact that they always expected someone to come to their rescue. They had no concept of what it was like to live without a higher authority to turn to for help. The very idea of being completely alone in fending for themselves was almost enough to crush them on its own.

Reality always set in eventually. For Jack it just took longer than it typically did for others. Her heart rate eventually would slow, her temper cool. Just a bit though, in all honesty she'd be worked up for hours. But seeing as there were teachers working their way through the crowd, drawing nearer with their threats of suspension or expulsion, Jack decided it might be time to move along.

She took one last look at her first statement to her peers on this new planet. She still felt no pity for him. She hadn't hurt him that badly. "You know, I really don't know what's more pathetic. You crying for mommy, or the fact that when I jumped you, your buddies stood by and watched. Might want to think on that long and hard, asshole. You never know when you might run into someone who really will pound you through the floor. This was nothin' bud, trust me on that much," she warned softly before slipping into the crowd of stupefied students who'd come to watch with wide eyes and slack jaws.

She weaved through them, cutting through far more quickly and gracefully than any of the authority figures present. She made her way in the direction of the closest exit she could find, carefully working on avoiding any adults coming her way.

As a final touch, Jack pulled the little white handle on a fire alarm in passing, on her way out of the main lobby. It sent the entire building into chaos before the mess of the fight could be sorted out. She just figured she might as well give herself a shot at a clean getaway, considering it would take quite a bit of her brain's energy to make up a story about how the whole thing had been entirely self-defense.


	15. Gotta Kill A Few People

* * *

"So, do you have a name, or am I going to have to keep referring to you as 'The Bitch Who Went Ballistic on Shane Connell's Ass This Morning'?"

"Jack," Jack retorted, slamming her locker shut and stalking off down the hall. She was still fuming in the aftermath of her encounter with the asshole squad, even though two hours had already passed since the fireworks had ended.

Was she lucky? Had the curious blonde taken offense at her rude dismissal and ditched the effort to communicate with her? A quick glance over her shoulder told her no, the tall girl who'd appeared almost out of thin air by her locker was almost jogging to catch up with her. It just really wasn't her lucky day. She tried walking faster, but the blonde caught up anyway.

Damn her, and her long legs too!

"Jack what? That some sort of swear word where you're from?" the girl asked half-pleasantly, but Jack wasn't buying it. Her whole attitude was far too world-wise. She too was probably a villain, just as much so as those boys in the lobby. It seemed her whole class was turning out to be evil.

You used to like evil.

Shut up.

Jack gave her a quick side-glance. Seeing as she wasn't going to lose her any time soon, she decided to grace the hanging question with a response containing multiple syllables. "Jack al-Walid. It's my name. And yes, I'm straight. I just hate being called Jackie." There it was. A nice, efficient response. Now hopefully this girl would fuck off and leave her the hell alone.

The girl smirked a bit, as though genuinely amused by her candor. "Hmm, Jack huh? I like that, it fits you. With the white wife beater, cargos, and combat boots you look like a Jack. Now, let me ask you another question, Jack. How the hell can I get you as a new best friend?"

"Gotta kill a few people," Jack deadpanned immediately, once again throwing a mostly-disinterested look the girl's way. "Get yourself sent to a Slam where you'll never see daylight again. Dig up a doctor, and pay him twenty menthol Kools to do a surgical shine job on your eyeballs...so you'll be able to see who's sneaking up on you in the dark."

The girl furrowed her eyebrows, experiencing a rare moment of complete confusion. "Huh?" she finally asked.

Jack sighed tiredly. Her attempt to throw the girl seemed to have been a simple waste of time. "Nothing, just an old inside joke this guy and I used to have," she explained. "Listen, whoever you are. You look smart, so I assume you are smart, and that means that you don't wanna be friends with me. I'm a senior, and even if I wasn't, I'm just passing through. More likely than not I'll be expelled, or I'll transfer, or I'll loose my temper and end my ass up in a juvenile detention center before Homecoming. If not sooner. You see how it sort of defeats the purpose of even trying to make friends?" Jack asked as she dodged around oncoming traffic in the busy hallway, trying to make her way to some classroom somewhere in the building. She didn't know exactly where, her map had been in her pack, and her pack had incidentally been stolen from the bench where she'd left it that morning.

All the King's Horses, And All the King's Men, could not possibly fuck up Jack's day any worse than Jack can.

The girl gave her a semi-thoughtful look. "Tell you what, why don't you let me be the judge of who I choose to be friends with, Jack? Me and my group of friends sit at the table closest to the west door of the cafeteria at lunch. Sit with us today, get to know us. We like to think we're a bunch of hard ass bitches too, so maybe you'll find you have more in common with us than you think," she half-joked, but Jack knew she was serious about that much at least. They probably did consider themselves a bunch of hard ass bitches. Did girls like that come any other way?

And then there was the mystery of her motives for wanting Jack as a friend in the first place. Hell, this was probably the glitz/glam girl of the senior class, the leader of the pack of female wolves that ran rampant through just about every class in just about every high school in the galaxy. It would be wise to tread softly in her presence. Jack had learned that much dealing with all the other feminine pack leaders she'd ever encountered. However, there were benefits to associating with them, sometimes. She wasn't above using a clique to help her survive, if it made life easier.

And who knew. This pride of lionesses might just be her ticket to smooth sailing through her senior year.

* * *

It took her ten minutes to find the cafeteria at lunch. She knew she was late, and was pissed at herself for it. She hadn't eaten breakfast that morning, not especially in the mood to face Riddick and Shella while they were together and Old Horny was cooing over 'Dear Ricky', bustling about getting his lunch ready like a good little house wife. Besides the fact that there was the dog...Jack shivered just thinking about the dog.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure the lunch line out. Jack stood behind the girl at the end, waiting, trying not to appear to be staring at anyone in particular. She glanced briefly at the girl ahead of her, a short girl with curly golden hair down to her shoulders. The girl briefly gave her a tight little smile, one that said 'I'm nice, but I really hope you don't talk to me, because I'm not that nice'.

Typical. Just like every other school in the galaxy. What the hell ever happened to 'Love your neighbor'. Imam sure liked that one. Let me guess, it's a Chrislam thing...

When she finally got to the front of the line Jack picked up a tray, only to find that there was no more silverware. And just as she was starting to cuss the cafeteria for that little inconvenience she looked up to discover that one of Big Red's friends was the tall, skinny, mousey haired boy dishing up the food she'd be eating.

Or rather, the food she wouldn't be eating. His harsh, piercing blue eyes never left her face as he gave her a large serving of the burnt-to-a-crisp fish sticks located on the sides and at the back of the large stainless steel pan. And not only did they reek, but they were covered in grease left behind by the edible fish sticks they'd been cooked next to. Put together with a scoop of smashed peas and Jack was positive that she was experiencing the grossest lunch she'd had since she'd been on the run.

And even that was a stretch.

Feeling defeated, and not even remembering to pick up a milk for herself, Jack sauntered over to the table that the girl she'd met earlier was sitting at.

The blonde looked up, recognizing her. "Oh, Jack, sit here with us. I'm glad you made it...eh, what happened to your lunch?" she asked, switching subjects suddenly upon noticing the display of what could barely even be described as dog food on Jack's tray.

Jack took a seat across from the pack leader as other girls moved aside so she would have a spot to sit. "That guy, the server, he was a friend of the guy I beat up this morning. Little bit of payback, I guess," she said half-heartedly, sounding dejected.

"That's Johnny Mathews. He has to work with the lunch department as part of his probation," the girl to her left informed her, a note of sympathy present in her voice.

Jack nodded. Very typical. "Think I'll call him Johns from here on out," she mumbled, her stomach growling.

Fucking Blue Eyed Devil. Bet you're laughing at me now, aren't you Johns? Having a good time in hell laughing at Riddick, and laughing at me...

But mostly you're laughing at Riddick, right?

* * *

Hope Anderson. That was the name of Jack's 'new best friend'. She was smart, cunning, and probably ruthless. And during her lunch with them, Jack discovered that for the most part all of Hope's friends had been cut from the same mold. Heck, they were even all blonde. What a fuckin' coincidence.

It didn't seem to matter that Jack was the odd ball out. Her hair was brunette, she had more than a bit of muscle gracing her frame, she talked more to herself than to others, and most importantly of all she was not in the habit of playing games.

During seventh period math, her last class of the day, Jack mulled over the events of her already morning and afternoon. Decisions were going to have to be made about what she was going to do, if she was going to gang up with Hope's lot. She was seriously considering it. It had become more than obvious that if she was going to beat Shella at her own game, Jack would actually need to learn how to play that game. And who better to learn from than a group of teenaged professionals?

Yet the other half of her mind rebelled against the idea. She was not a fucking conformist. Never had been, never would be.

You know, it would probably be a lot easier if you just took Shella down the same way you did Big Red this morning. A lot less hassle too. No wonder everyone believed it when you said you were a boy Jack, you practically ARE one of the guys.

"Just tack on a dick and call me Mr. B. Badd," she mumbled to herself while staring out the window at a tantalizing blue-skied day. "Can't let myself fall into these traps. Only been away from home a week and already turning into..." What?

Something you're not, that's for sure.

"You'd probably still be pretty even if you did have a dick, so that would sort of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"

Jack turned around slowly to glare at whoever had interrupted her thoughts, wondering how the guy behind her could've possibly heard what she'd said, and for the briefest second she thought was losing her mind  



	16. No One To Keep Me Safe

AN: The Empire is a reference to the human, Earth based empire that has overtaken most of the galaxy and for the most part is the sole government that all humans, subspecies humans, and non-humans alike must answer to. However, it does tend to unfairly favor classic humans. The reach of this central government, as well as the power it holds, is incredible. Making it, in many ways, an unbelievably corrupt system.

AN2: I had to go back and put in italics when characters were thinking:-) Sorry! Don't know quite what happened, but they should be fixed now. Thanks so so so much for all the great reviews! I love it!

* * *

"Dom? What fuck are you doing here?" she whispered, her anger and tension quickly draining away upon seeing that cocky smirk she was beginning to recognize and appreciate. 

Conte shrugged. "I missed you. Besides, I've never been in a high school before and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I gotta say, so far I'm not impressed."

That made her grin. He'd come to her school and found which class she was in just to see her? Amazing. No one had ever done anything like that for her before. Never the less because they'd actually _missed _her!

"How did you find me?" she asked excitedly, turning to sit sideways in her desk so it would be less obvious she wasn't paying attention to the teacher.

They were sitting in the back, but it didn't hurt to be cautious. This way she'd be able to turn her head at less of an angle to appear to be looking intently at the front of the room.

"Broke into the guidance counselor's office," he whispered back, leaning forward a bit and resting his jaw on one fist as he looked at her from behind his sunglasses.

Jack wished he would take them off, she so badly wanted to see his eyes. She realized she didn't even know what color they were. Then at that moment her stomach growled, and she crossed her arms over it, wincing a little cause she was positive everyone in the room probably heard it.

"Jack," Dom whispered, again pulling her attention to him.

"What?" she whispered back, her hunger fading a bit as her giddiness increased in magnitude within her chest, almost overwhelming her for a moment.

"Meet me by the girl's bathroom at the end of the hall in three minutes," he said, before slipping out of his desk and rising to tower above her.

Jack snapped around in her chair, not wanting to get caught facing in the wrong direction. She'd had enough public humiliation for one day, and didn't want to be in the market for more.

She watched as Dom approached the front of the classroom, his hands seeming strangely empty of school necessities such as pencils and books. To hide the fact he shoved them deep in the pockets of his cargos. Jack smothered a snicker. He sure didn't look like a high school student. Not to her anyway.

He told the teacher something about thinking he might be in the wrong class and, being that it was the first day, she excused him without question. And then he was off, swaggered towards the door, glancing back at her briefly with that crazy smug look still on his face, before he finally made his exit.

If she hadn't known better she would've thought that Dom was under the impression that he ruled the world. Jack sighed an uncharacteristically dreamy sigh. Maybe he did...after all, it was starting to look like he might one day own more than a small piece of her heart.

It wasn't until then that she looked down and realized that while she'd been so busy staring at his face he'd managed to slip a pack of gummy worms onto her desk without her noticing.

Jack grinned. It was starting to look like she wasn't the only one who had quick hands. Good thing she was sitting on her wallet at the moment, eh?

* * *

She met him, in front of the girl's restroom. She'd told the teacher she was going to the bathroom, and in a sense, she did. She went there, met a big guy gushing predator vibes, and then went and found second base in a janitor's closet with him until the last bell rang. That part wasn't exactly planned... It just sort of happened, and Jack figured it was simply the natural progression of things. That's what she kept telling herself, anyway. 

She didn't tell him that it was her first _real_ make-out session. She figured he'd figure it out on his own if he was really as experienced as he seemed. And oh boy, was he ever experienced! Dom Conte could do things in her mouth with his tongue that Jack had never imagined could be done. At first she found the kissing-continuously thing more than a little odd. For some strange reason it reminded her of sucking on a peeled grape. She was glad when the two of them soon found a slow rhythm that she could relax into. Without her having to say a word he seemed to know what she needed, and Jack was unbelievably grateful for that.

After the bell rang she came up for air, almost gasping because he'd absolutely taken her breath away. "I can't believe we're doing this," she giggled, suddenly finding herself as carefree as a bird on a calm day.

She couldn't imagine there being anything better than having this guy holding her so tightly to his chest, both his arms wrapped around her, making her laugh and giggle without actually saying anything.

He smirked at her, clearly amused by how fascinating she found such a simple thing as kissing in a closet during school. "Why not? Didn't you make out with all the elementary drop outs at your old high school?" he asked softly.

Jack's eyes widened a bit, and once again she wished she could see his eyes in the darkness. He'd taken off his shades after closing the door behind him, and she still had yet to see them. He was starting to make her curious, but she suspected that it might be on purpose. Dom probably wished to remain mysterious, alluring. And damn it, it was working like a charm on her!

"You never even made it out of elementary school?" she asked, hardly able to absorb the fact.

How had he managed to escape the Empire's government long enough to do that? Jack had tried on numerous occasions to escape, and she'd never managed to get very far until she was at least twelve going on thirteen.

"Well, technically I did. I actually think I was in junior high when I dropped out. It's hard to tell. At the school I attended they didn't keep track of grades by year, you know? It was a year-round setup. I was twelve when I quit, so who knows, right?"

_You think she'd want to know that you attended school in the Slammer for four years? Might want to save that bit for the honeymoon, Conte..._

She smiled in the darkness, and he could see that much of the tension that had built on her during the day had faded, the furrow in her brow had smoothed. All his doing. And he was only trying to get her to trust him.

_Well, not entirely. All work and no play makes Conte a very sick and twisted boy._

Wasn't that the truth.

"Dom?"

"I know, Jack, you've got to go now. So do I, unfortunately. So, wanna make this a weekly thing? Same time, same closet?" he asked teasingly, and he would've waggled his eyebrows suggestively if he thought she'd be able to see it in the dark. But of course, she couldn't. He didn't think she could probably see anything in there, that was why he'd been able to take his shades off. Besides the fact that he'd wanted to look at her without them.

Her face lit up again, but not quite with as much surprise and brightness as it had before. She was getting so she wasn't positively stunned by everything he did anymore. That would probably have to change, eventually.

She stood on tiptoe once again, kissing him softly on the lips a final time. "Sounds great, Dominic. See ya next week." She opened the closet door, looking back to see him quickly replacing his shades, pushing them into place with one finger.

"Dom, what color are your eyes?"

"Dark blue, why?" he asked, hoping she wasn't just _now_ becoming suspicious.

Jack smiled a little bit. "Can I see them next week?"

Conte chuckled, becoming suddenly more at ease. "Anything for you, Jack. I just wear these stupid shades cause I have this weird idea in my head that they make me look cool."

Her smile broadened a bit as she left him there alone, dreamily making her way back to her locker.

Conte paused a minute, needing a little time to regain his strength after such a hard battle with the Beast.

_Getting harder to keep you caged around her. I'm almost starting to think YOU'RE getting attached._

The Beast growled at the accusation, roaring its displeasure upon being denied YET AGAIN. Conte only smirked, still well in control, for the moment.

_So tell me the truth, do YOU think she's getting suspicious? Maybe shouldn't have told her the eyes are blue. She might start thinking of me like Riddick thought of Johns._

_The Blue Eyed Devil._

_She'd be wrong, but close..._

* * *

Her day COULD'VE turned out alright. It MIGHT'VE been not so bad...but for some reason that Monday just wouldn't quit until it turned out to be one of the worst days of Jack's life. 

Walking alone over to Riddick's office with her head stuck on cloud nine was a mistake. Taking a back alley shortcut was just downright naïve. She should've been alert, should've seen it coming, should've noticed them following her.

She didn't.

There were three of them. Well, two and a half. Big Red just sort of sat back and watched while Johnny "Johns" Matthews and a blonde haired boy beat the snot out of her, taking his shots only when she was particularly beaten down. The fucking coward.

Jack didn't think she fared too bad considering. She got in a couple good shots, and most importantly she never quit fighting till the end. Sometimes the tide of a fight would turn, as long as she never gave up. Not that time. In the end, she was the one on the ground, chest heaving, body battered and exhausted.

"Kick her again, Steve," Red ordered the blonde boy. He did it without hesitation, clocking her hard and completely knocking the air out of her lungs. She gasped, fighting to keep her stomach in place, rolling away in agony.

Jack ordered herself to get up, to turn over and bite one of them on the leg. Anything so she wouldn't quit, anything. It just wasn't her day, hadn't started out her day, and wasn't ending her day. The only point that had been good was while she was in Riddick's...Dom's arms. Dom, where was he now? If ever she'd needed a protector, this was that time. Just this once...

Lying on the ground on her side, facing away from them, blood and spit dripping from her mouth onto the street, Jack felt a single tear roll from the corner of her eye back into her ear.

_Keep me safe, Riddick? Oh God, why the fuck couldn't you have just kept that one fucking promise? All The King's Horses, And All The King's Men..._

It took her a long time to realize that the three boys had gone, leaving her there, broken and without anyone to help her pick herself up off the ground.

That much she was used to.

_Don't worry about this one Jack. Think about tomorrow. You're going to live to fight again tomorrow. That's all that really matters. Cause tomorrow, Jackie girl, you're going to be packing your shiv. Tomorrow, you'll show them how to tango for real._


	17. What Darkness Hides

* * *

He watched from a corner down the block, never even considering interfering on her behalf. He'd watched how she fought, how she lived and died with every graceful move. But the odds were stacked against her.

_She loves it,_ he realized. And she did, she loved to fight, even if she lost on occasion.

His kind of girl.

He became part of the shadows as the boys stalked off, nursing the wounds she'd given them. They split up upon reaching the street, and he began to track after one of them. The blonde one, the last one to kick her. A deep, satisfied growl emerged from deep within his chest as the hunt began. The kid was ruthless, savage even. All the better. It had been a while. Maybe too long.

* * *

Steve left the playground basketball court where he'd been shooting hoops with some of the other guys at around midnight. It had been a long day, being back at school. If it weren't for being in Shane's gang of senior guys, he probably would've dropped out a long time ago. It wasn't like he was going to college or anything, school made him sick.

And then there was that girl. Steve clenched his fists just thinking about her.

Little bitch had nearly broken his nose with a left jab. And there was nothing, nothing Steve could stand less than some bitch thinking she had anything over him. His girlfriend never would've tried that kind of shit with him. He smacked her around plenty, and she always took it. That was the way it should be. All these people were trying to make it out to be like women should have equal rights, and in his opinion they were full of shit.

Two blocks from his house he took a shortcut through one of the many alleyways littering the streets of Central City. When he'd just about reached the streetlights on the far side a garbage can clanged loudly to the ground behind him, stopping him dead in his tracks. Steve turned, squinting into the darkness, trying to see. He took a step closer, then another. It was probably just a cat or a raccoon digging for scraps. Damn wildlife, of course no human colony could live without natural wildlife from Earth.

Then, there, that shadow to his left, it almost looked like it moved.

He turned to face in that direction, trying to look threatening. "Listen up, whoever the fuck you are. You ain't scaring me. Come out and I'll whip your ass for trying to sneak up on me. If you're a Vipe then you should know that I'm in with the Flames, and you're on our fucking turf!" He paused a moment, waiting for a response. Nothing came from the darkness, not a sound. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he scoffed, turning to go.

Turning and running right into a wall, a wall that hadn't been there a second ago, a wall that grabbed him with one large fist and effortlessly lifted him off the ground by the front of his shirt. And as he looked up at the man who'd so easily made him helpless, he almost shit himself because staring back at him were the blackest, most hideous eyes he'd ever seen in his life. The man didn't have irises, just two, deep, black pits of nothingness where his eyeballs should've been. And they were burning in the moonlight, burning with the kind of fury and insanity you only heard of in horror stories and never thought could possibly be real. Those were the devil's eyes.

Steve started to scream when he finally noticed the wide, evil, Cheshire Cat smile staring him in the face; realizing that the nearly manic grin was sporting a nasty looking set of fangs.

"Holy fuck, holy fuck you're a vampire," he whimpered, struggling to get away and almost managing to drop out of his shirt before the grip on him tightened.

His screams and chronic shaking were met with a deep basso chuckle. "Na, kid. I ain't a vampire. I'm here to tell ya you won a vacation."

"A vacation?" Steve choked, trying to keep himself from being swept away by the fear and panic that was creeping over him. It was as if that madness were trying to seep in and overtake him too.

"Yeah, got your first class ticket, right here."

Steve didn't register the feeling of the ground come up hard to meet his tennis shoes. He was whipped around so he was again looking into the shadows, his back pressed up hard against the chest of the demon that had taken him hostage. It happened so fast, he barely even realized that it had happened at all.

"And when you get to hell, Steve, be sure to save me a seat."

He only felt the steel plunge between the ribs just to the left of his sternum for a second, but he did feel it. Felt the coldness, in his heart, that had always been lurking there. Just beneath the surface.

He didn't even get a chance to scream before his neck had been snapped sharply to the side with a sickening crack. Then his body slumped to the ground at the feet of the...thing...that had killed him. It started to laugh at how pathetic he'd been. How unworthy he was as prey.

The monster deliberately licked the blood from his blade, sliding the flat edge slowly from hilt to tip along his tongue, making sure it was clean before it disappeared among his clothes, and he disappeared back into the darkness that hid him so well.

Waiting, watching for the next opportunity.

For the next victim, for the next kill.

He promised himself that the next one...would be more innocent.

The next one...would be more fun.


	18. The MiniWitch

AN: Short chapter, I know. The next one will be better. I promise.

* * *

Jack held her left arm close to herself as she placed her right palm on the scanner. This time the door popped right open, and she was admitted access to Riddick's house. 

Her hand slipped on the knob when she tried to close the door behind her, blood had dripped down her arm from cuts and abrasions. She left red outlines on everything she touched. She considered cleaning it up, but considering Shella was such a neat freak, in the end Jack decided against it.

_Never miss an opportunity to piss the old bitch off, do ya, Jack?_

Once she figured out how reengage the lock, having to turn her head at a bit of an angle so she could see it with her good eye, Jack turned to go up to the bathroom, limping slowly towards the stairs. It was time for a long, hot shower. Then she could try to figure out what she was going to tell Riddick about what had happened to her. No doubt he'd ask questions. She'd been supposed to meet him at his office, right?

_Pfft, so much for that plan._

She'd dragged her carcass to the nearest bus stop and had been grateful to have gotten that far. She'd gone around the loop twice, because she'd been too out of it to get off at her stop the first time.

In all the universe's history of bad first days, Jack was pretty sure she was experiencing one of the worst ever. Top ten at least.

Make that top five, cause obviously it wasn't over yet, and the hits were just gonna keep on comin'. Jack stopped dead, forcing her eyes to come off the carpet as she looked up at the growling menace on the third step from the bottom, tilting her head to look at the fluffy chew toy.

_Pooky._

_Oh shit._

_Not now_.

Jack growled a little herself. "Listen up, bitch. I've had a really, incredibly, impossibly, horrible day. You and I, we're going to tangle sometime, it's inevitable. But not today. You bite me today, I'll fucking bite you back. And that's a promise," she ground out through clenched teeth.

Pooky just kept growling at her, then started barking. A high pitched, incredibly annoying bark that made Jack's pounding headache turn into a sensation similar to a sledgehammer smashing her skull to bits. She charged forward at the dog, and it in turn flew at her face, trying to sink its teeth into anything it could get a hold of.

Jack smacked the furry, miniature she-devil aside, flying up the stairs as fast as she could with her injuries. She wasn't quick enough. Pooky sank her pointy, needle-like teeth into Jack's Achilles Tendon through her sock, latching on like a furry leech.

The scream that exploded from deep within her chest couldn't have been suppressed by any amount of self control. It turned into something akin to a battle cry as Jack kicked at the dog with her other foot, hoping she would kill it with the solid kick she landed right on its face. She managed to get Pooky off long enough to scramble up a few more stairs on her hands and knees before the dog caught the leg of her jeans, again tripping her and nearly causing her to slide all the way down the stairs to the bottom.

"I'll kill you! I swear to God I'll kill you! Just wait until I get my shiv, I'm gonna ghost you motherfucker! And trust me, not all dogs go to heaven!" Jack screamed almost hysterically.

With another brutal kick she managed to free herself, then sprinted the rest of the way up the stairs and barricaded herself in her room, locking the door behind her to keep out the little barking mongrel scratching on the other side. As well as anyone else who might try get in that night.

The tears came instantly, and with surprising force as she sank down with her back against her own door, wrapping her arms around her knees. The sobs wracked her tired and bruised body, adding further hurt to injury. Even an hour later, she was barely able to pick herself up off the floor so she could collapse, still bloody and dirty, on her bed. She could barely move, too lost in the swamping of emotions, in the feeling that she was surrounded entirely by enemies. People who wanted to hurt her.

_Call Imam in the morning. There's nothing for you here, Jack._

She didn't even try to argue with herself, just attempted to suppress an oncoming sob.

_Jack B. Badd Sat On A Wall..._

_Jack B. Badd Had A Great Fall..._


	19. Call Me Back

* * *

He'd wondered if he should be angry that Jack had simply blown off meeting him at his office. In the end he decided that anger wouldn't help. It would only distract from his attempts to set an example that he hoped the girl would one day choose to follow.

At least she was safe, home, if once again barricaded in her room with the door locked. He tried to get her to come down to dinner, but after a moment or two gave up on calling her name and softly knocking on her door.

_Maybe the first day didn't go well. Holy Man said she wasn't the type that got along well with other kids._

The only logical choice was to give her a little peace, let her work her way through it on her own if that was what she wanted.

Shella was completely in denial that there was even another person in the house, had been for days. He wished she would at least make an effort to talk to Jack, let her know that it was okay that she was staying with them. Heck, he really couldn't see why the two of them weren't friends. They could go shopping together and spend his money, throw parties, go to the gym together. Why the intense dislike? Then again, who was he to question it? Obviously this was one of those things that men simply didn't understand, and probably never would.

* * *

After they were together that night, he attempted to bring the subject up again, but Shelly was being obstinate; insisted she was too tired to even think about it. She rolled over so her back was to him and promptly fell asleep. That definitely wasn't a good sign. Usually she wanted to cuddle up to him after words.

He pulled on sweats and a beater, taking a brief trip to the kitchen for the bottle of Hydrite in the fridge. His hand hovered over it for a long moment, as a war raged inside him.

"Need to quit drinking that stuff all the time, Dick, too much sugar in it," he mumbled to himself.

After grabbing a water instead, Riddick resigned that sleep was probably the best idea at the moment, and soon after he trekked up the stairs and slipped back into bed without waking Shella, he too became lost within its depths.

_He could smell the death all around him. It filled his nostrils, nearly suffocating him. Humans, and monsters alike, all dead. All but a very select few. Fry, the holy man, the last of Imam's boys, Jack, and Johns. And him. Running, never getting any closer to the skiff in spite of how close it appeared. Gun shots. He looked back. Johns had killed the boy. _

"Cutting the fat," he explained shortly. "He was holding us back, now keep moving!"

What did he care? Jack was still safe. The holy man was...gone...no matter how Riddick looked around for him, penetrating the darkness with his night vision, he couldn't see where he'd gone. Glimpses, yes, he'd catch those out of the corner of his eye. But no definite sighting when he would whip around to see if it was really him.

Who cared? One less mouth to feed once they were drifting in space.

"I would die for them, Riddick!" Fry, wrestling the gun from Johns as she tried to protect Jack, tried to keep her safe. She died for her trouble. He stood there and watched, still heartless in the face of it.

Again, Johns turned to him. "I did those two, now you do the girl. She'll only hold us back. We'll drag her along behind as bait, keep them off our asses."

"Think we need a bigger piece of bait, Johns," he rumbled dangerously. "The kid's gonna make it. I'm not leaving her in the dark like they left me!"

"Oh really? Would you die for her, Riddick? Cause you're gonna die for her if you save her now. And she'll die too. Do her quick, put her out of her misery. I know you can handle that. Spare her the pain they caused you. She's an orphan, Riddick, you aren't killing anybody's baby here. Spare her from living your life."

He turned his silver eyes on Jack, considering that. She'd found the cave and was huddled inside, monsters of all sorts trying to scrape her out like she was meat in a can.

"Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck away!" She fought on her own, without calling for him. She didn't expect him to come for her even if she did.

With a quick movement he snatched the gauge from Johns' hands, blowing his head off without hesitation.

"I want you to remember this moment..." he whispered to the corpse that fell before him.

They ran together, seeing the holy man had made it to the skiff and prepared for takeoff. So close, had to get Jack there first. He slipped in the mud, pushing her ahead, ordering her harshly to keep running and not look back.

Hammerhead came at him, bout tore his leg off. Ripped at him, was going to kill him, but they were safe. He'd shown Jack how to set the autopilot, had reprogrammed the damn thing himself. Drilled her on it for a half hour and thank God he had. They would be safe. Imam would know how to use the comm.

He blew away the Hammerhead above him, but they didn't stop coming, until light appeared over him. She'd come back, she'd come back for him. She was helping him get to his feet. He stumbled, putting too much weight on her. They slowly circled as she fought to keep him standing.

"Damn it, Riddick, you are not going to die here! I need you! I'm not fucking leaving without you!"

Coldness, pain, wetness. But maybe it was only the rain, maybe this time it wasn't... The only sound was Jack's slight gasp. She stiffened in his arms as their roles changed, and all of a sudden he was the one holding her up. She managed a tiny smirk for his sake, as she looked up into his eyes.

"Keep me safe, Riddick?" she whispered.

"Always," he swore gruffly, his voice ragged with pain. Why now, why did she have to ask now? Why was it so easy to promise now! Why not sooner?

She looked down a little, at the piece of monster that had impaled her through the back. He heard her low chuckle, and almost couldn't believe it. How could she possibly have the strength while she was in that kind of agony?

"Heh, sweet spot. These damn chickens learn pretty quick. But then again, they learned from the best. Riddick." Then she was torn away from him and again he fell to his knees.

This time, there would be no one to call him back to life from the skiff. This time, he was going to die.

"Not for me, Jack," he whispered pathetically.

"Riddick!" Her scream came from the darkness, from far away. There wasn't any way he could help her now. Even if he had her back in his arms, she would die there. "Riddick!"

He hadn't been able to save her, he hadn't saved himself.

Riddick jerked awake, sitting bolt upright and throwing the sheets aside as he tried to start breathing again, tried to figure out just where the hell he was.

"Riddick!"

That had been real enough. In the darkness he scrambled from his bed, down the hall to the locked door that stood between him and Jack. It wasn't enough to fucking stand between him and Jack, and it sure as hell wouldn't be doing it for long.

He'd make sure of that.

He led with his left shoulder, crashing through as the door buckled under the terrific force he exerted on it.

He instantly recognized that she was in the thralls of her own nightmare, tossing and turning as it tortured her, gripping her tight and refusing to let her go even as he grabbed her up, holding her to his chest.

"I've got you, I've got you, Jack. Come on, baby, wake up. You aren't there, you're here, you're safe," he whispered, trying to bite back the fear that she was going to get lost in her memories of that planet, and he'd never get her back. He wouldn't be able to return the favor, wouldn't be able to call her back to life.

She didn't cry when she woke up, like she had so many times back when they were living in New Mecca's capital. She just sort of froze, her hands balling into fists, her teeth clenching. Her whole body shook, and when she opened her eyes they were unblinking. Visions of death were all she could see.

At first he thought she was having a seizure, especially when he couldn't even force her fists open, stop her nails from digging into her palms until they bled.

She's paralyzed. It's like those times she'd freeze and wouldn't move out of fear. But it was never this bad...

And then there was the strangest part. She smelled like blood. Not the normal kind he expected now and then. This was straight blood, it covered a good portion of her body. Not a huge amount, but enough to tell of the trauma she'd experienced that day.

"Holy shit, kid. What happened to you?"

She didn't respond, merely clung to his thin shirt with both fists, whimpering occasionally.

"Riddick," she whispered, but he couldn't tell if she said it because she knew he was there or because she was still trapped somewhere in a dream.

"I'm here, Jack, tell me you know where you are. Tell me what happened to you."

"She killed, Riddick. She killed him. I tried to stop her but I couldn't. Now I think she's going to kill me too," Jack whispered back, a shiver running rampant down her spine.

"Jack, please, tell me who beat you up."

Her eyes slid shut, her body stilled momentarily. "Boys, at school."

Finally, some progress. He doubted she was awake, but in her dream at least she was speaking to him. "Which boys, Jack?" he asked, running a hand up and down her side, trying to help her relax.

She swallowed loudly before whispering, "Johns Matthews. Kid named Steve. He had blonde hair."

He didn't try to wake her any more after that, hoping for some kind of explanation of what she'd been talking about before, about him dying. When she finally slipped into a deeper REM sleep, her breathing becoming slow and regular, he gently laid her back down, removing her shoes and covering her up. Then he slipped silently from her room, wondering downstairs to prowl around in the dark, pacing back and forth through the house. It was better than returning to his own nightmares.

After all, if he couldn't do anything about his own horrifying dreams, how the hell did he expect to help Jack with hers?

_But at least,_ he thought, wiping the sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. _At least she didn't die in your arms tonight._


	20. Fight For Me

* * *

The one good thing about going to bed especially early, was waking up especially early. Half-asleep, Jack padded to the bathroom and took a long shower, being sure to use up all of the warm water. After drying herself off she began to tend to the more severe of the wounds she'd sustained the previous afternoon.

Most of the cuts and scrapes she merely cleaned. The sprained ankle and bruised shoulder couldn't be helped, but the black eye she tackled with the little makeup she owned. Concealor. And Imam had thought she was finally loosening her hold on a few of her tomboyish ways when she'd started buying it. Ha, showed how much he knew.

When the colorful bruise had been hidden as well as could be expected, Jack walked back to her room, still drying her hair with a towel. It wasn't until she tried to close the door behind her so she could change out of her bathrobe that she realized the latch had been broken.

_You locked it last night, remember? So who came crashing into your room while you were sleeping, Jack? And more importantly, why didn't you wake up?_

She vaguely remembered a nightmare or two. Had Riddick? Na, the old coot didn't have it in him anymore. Heck, it was more likely that she'd flipped out and pulled it open herself while sleepwalking. Jack thought probably would've been strong enough to do that, it wasn't that solid of a door.

_Really? So why's the impact point on the outside, huh?_

No answer for that. Time to get dressed anyway. Just concentrate on what has to be done, worry about everything else later.

_That's right, you've got better things to do today._

She changed quickly, pulling on her regular clothes, and hiding her favorite weapon amongst them.

* * *

Riddick half-stumbled into the kitchen while Jack was trying to prepare herself a sack lunch. Trying, and failing. All she could find in the house were non-sugary, non-meat containing foods. It was horrible. Shella didn't even stock peanut butter in the fridge, and she sure as hell didn't have any lunch meat or chips. Never mind the fact that Jack hadn't eaten since she'd torn into Conte's gummy worms the previous afternoon. She was freaking starving!

"Riddick," she almost snapped, getting ready to complain about the fact that there was hardly anything edible in the house.

But she paused when she did finally bother to look up from the carrots and celery she was wrapping up in plastic, and saw him sitting at the table. He looked sick, unbelievably sick. His normally healthy, bronze skin tone had faded. He was almost completely drained of color. And the most frightening thing of all was how the hand he had absently resting on the table was shaking. In fact, his whole body seemed to be trembling without control.

"Riddick?" Jack asked, softly this time.

She slowly approached him, and he turned to look at her. "Get me some Hydrite, out of the fridge," he wheezed. He was dressed for work, but his clothes were all messed up, almost like he'd slept in them. But judging by the dark circles under his eyes, she had a feeling he hadn't slept at all the night before. Sweat soaked his collar, turning the light blue of his shirt almost navy everywhere it came into contact with his skin.

Jack got the requested item from the fridge, opening it for him. Riddick took several, long, hard swallows before he finally put it down. And then he merely sat there, breathing.

Jack found herself hovering close to him, worried, in spite of herself.

_Still going to call Imam today? _

_I can't leave him here like this, there's something wrong..._

"I'm getting old," he said quietly, almost an admission of some horrible kind. "I get sick so easily, dehydrated so fast..." he trailed off, his empty stare seeing nothing.

"You reminded me of Johns," Jack replied absently. Riddick turned a questioning look on her, and she decided she'd better explain, quick. "You were shaking so bad just now, Riddick. It reminded me of Johns, when he'd go too long without his spike."

He shook his head, slowly, taking another drink. "I'm not on anything, Jack. It's just age, I think. I don't know if I like that. Guess I don't need to be particularly sharp anymore, my fighting days are done."

Tentatively Jack reached out with one hand, and let it rest on his shoulder.

_Please, stop reminding me that you're getting weaker, Riddick. Please, I don't know how strong I can be if you're failing._

"Then I'll fight for both of us, until you get your edge back," she whispered, hoping she was being encouraging. Hoping, this could be a turning point for both of them.

He smirked, just a little. "I don't know, Jack. I think you do enough fighting for one girl. And it looks like you're picking some of 'em with people you shouldn't be."

She smiled a little at that. "I can take care of myself."

_You have to, no one's going to do it for you, Jackie._

* * *

Twenty minutes later Riddick had regained his color, and most of his energy. He'd gone to change clothes, eaten breakfast, and by the time he'd let the dog in from the garage they were running late.

"Jack!" he shouted from the kitchen, getting her attention even though she was up in her room, stuffing pencils and paper into her travel pack to replace the school bag she'd lost. "We're leaving in two minutes!"

"Okay!" she shouted back down the stairs. "Get me something to drink during lunch, would you, Rick?"

He'd just opened the fridge to grab himself a fresh bottle of Hydrite, since he'd killed the first one already, and upon hearing her request grabbed the one behind it as well. Heck, if she was going to insist on fighting with the big boys, she'd need the electrolytes.

He met her at the bottom of the stairs, looking up to see Shella standing at the top, leaning against the rail.

"Hey, baby, you cooking dinner tonight?" he stopped to ask.

Jack grabbed his arm, jerking him towards the door. "Come on, we're late."

He allowed her to pull him along, but it was obvious what his eyes were on. He didn't pull his gaze away from Shella until Jack opened the front door and pulled him most of the way through it. He turned to close the door behind him, and paused upon seeing the dried blood on the door handle.

He looked up, trying to catch Jack's eye, but she was already halfway to his car by then.

_Shoulda noticed that last night, Dick._

* * *

Jack made the decision to sit with the blonde crew at lunch again that day. Who else was she going to sit with?

When she approached their regular table she found the rumor mill was already turning at full tilt, hushed voices were talking up a storm. Jack sat down across from Hope with her sack lunch and bottle of sports drink, and almost immediately all the girls went silent.

"What?" she asked, unscrewing the lid on the bottle and taking a sip of the red liquid.

Hope leaned a little closer, a slightly twisted look on her face. "You know the guy you beat up yesterday? Well, a kid who was in his gang, Steve Jackson, was killed last night. They found his body this morning. They say he was stabbed in the heart and had his neck broken."

The girl on her right leaned in close as well, joining the hushed conversation. "They say that the cross town gang, the Vipers, brought in a new guy who's stalking the streets at night, killing guys in with the Flames. That's why Shane and his friends aren't here today. They're out looking for the guy who did it. At least, that's what they say. I think they're hiding at home, hoping they won't get killed too."

Jack shook her head, confused by the sudden influx of information, and a bit frightened. "They should get out of town as fast as they can," she said, mostly to herself, a little bit of fear clenching her insides. Fear that the rest of them were too naïve to feel.

Gazes of confusion rested on her, a silence falling over the table as the girls all stopped to look at her. Her confusion mirrored back at her in every single one of their faces. Jack sighed. So, she was actually going to have to explain this one too. They couldn't see her reasoning, based on the details they knew. But it was the details that had tipped Jack off. You didn't live around a convicted criminal as long as she had and not learn a thing or two.

You didn't live on the streets for very long at all, if you didn't learn a thing or two.

"This Steve guy, he's the blonde, right?" Her question/statement was confirmed by short nods, and Jack went on with her explanation, nervously picking at the edge of her napkin. "If he got stabbed in the heart that means one of two things. Either the guy who did it was a complete amateur, or the most precise of professionals. It takes lots of...practice, to get a knife to slip between a person's ribs just right. Otherwise you have to go through the bone, and that takes a hell of a lot of strength. Especially considering that most victims don't exactly hold still to make it easier. Most guys off the street don't even know exactly where the heart is located, so if the killer does most of his work with a knife, and he went for the heart first, that's his way of showing off. Going for the hardest kill shot possible."

"So how would you tell the difference?" Hope asked, but not out of fear as Jack expected. Genuine interest was gracing her features. "If it was an amateur or a professional?"

Jack crumpled the napkin up in her palm, squeezing it tight. "If it was an amateur, the body would be all hacked up. Even if they got lucky, only one in a hundred of them wouldn't have at least nicked the ribs on either side of the entrance point. If he was a professional, it would be a clean kill. It would bruise his pride if he even touched the bone. If he wasn't that good, he wouldn't have gone for that shot. He would've gone for a major artery somewhere else; carotid, subclavian, axillary, celiac..." she trailed off, her eyes glazing over.

_Sweet spot,_ her mind whispered. _What all did you tell Riddick last night while he was in your room, Jack?_

"How do you know all that?" asked one of the younger girls at the table, Jack wasn't paying enough attention to recognize which one. But she did recognize the hint of terror present in her voice. Misplaced terror. Terror of her, of who she could possibly be to know everything she did about killers and how they ticked. About the best ways to kill a man...

_Strange how it's always the messenger they fear more than the message itself. Time to tell them about the one you plugged, Jack?_

_Why make them wet themselves any more than they already have?_

"I was a runaway for over a year, I saw a lot of shady things, met a lot of shady people," she replied softly, still feeling the strange anxiety, the excess nerves that were putting her on edge. So strange that she was getting them _now_.

Jack took another drink of her Hydrite, forcing herself to take out some of her lunch and eat it. Her gaze retained a semi-permanent glaze throughout the lunch period, and none of the girls attempted to startle her from her thoughts. Each one of them was in awe of her in their own way. Some out of fear, some out of respect. And at least one of them was planning how to use her as their pawn.

And deep down, inside of her, she felt so...strange...


	21. The Haze

AN: It's a short one, but the next one WILL be better. I swear on a stack of Bibles. Lol.

* * *

The Viper killer did do one thing for her. He scared the members of the Flames so bad that they completely forgot about her. Well, the ones that didn't flee town after Johnny Matthews was murdered even more brutally than Steve Jackson had been. The killer use the same MO. A quick, efficient knife wound to the heart, broken neck. The only difference was that Johnny's guts were spilled all over the pavement, while Steve's had been left intact. The killer was either becoming bolder, taking more time to enjoy his work, or he'd simply had an extra strong lust for blood when he'd hunted Johns down.

Jack found no comfort in either possibility.

Several members of the Flames were sent off to stay with relatives by horrified parents. Others simply disappeared on their own for a long while. The important thing was that Jack hadn't been forced to defend herself that first Tuesday afternoon of the school year. The day she found out that Steve was dead.

She went to Riddick's office after she got done with classes, wondering if she should confront him about the extremely interesting timing of Steve Jackson's murder. However, once she saw, and was thoroughly sickened by, the way he was treated by both his coworkers and his boss at work, she changed her mind. Riddick got pushed around by everyone, absolutely everyone. He wasn't a serial killer, he wasn't a killer at all. It was so obvious in the way he would laugh, pretend that it was all a joke, when the other guys were making fun of him...manipulating him...

They walked in, unannounced, just moments after Jack arrived that afternoon. Four of them, probably all in their mid to late twenties. They settled in, sitting on any surface available, whooping it up about some party, some thing they'd done, cheating on their girlfriends. All the while they went about planning their next escapade for the weekend. They spoke of freely of their plans right in front of Rick, but made no attempt to invite or include him.

Then, while she was waiting to get a chance to talk to Rick alone, to grab the job applications and run, his boss came in and screamed at him because none of them were getting any work done. It wasn't even Riddick's freaking fault! He'd joked with them, but occasionally attempted to remind them that they all had things to do. His coworkers had just been giving him shit because he never missed a day of work, even came in on weekends sometimes to get ahead. He was this asshole's best worker! And just because he didn't talk back like the other guys would've, he got pushed around?

And the worst part was that even though normally she wouldn't have held her tongue, she would've told Riddick's boss EXACTLY what she thought of him barging into a worker's office and immediately pointing fingers, she didn't. She didn't say a word. She just sat in a corner and watched her old hero take the blame without a bit of complaint. At least he didn't try to pass it off on anyone else; took it like a man in that regard. But he didn't stand up for himself.

It broke her heart to see it.

That was what she blamed the melancholy on. That was the reason for the disinterest in positively everything that overtook her in the following days and, eventually, weeks. She went to school, came home, worked out, did her homework, and went to sleep shortly after dinner. She settled into the lifestyle that Riddick and Shella dictated for her without any more fuss or bother. It was the easiest thing in the world. And she excused it, because inside, her heart felt like it had been crushed under somebody's boot.

She spoke little, rarely finding herself with anything pressing to say. Things became so simple. The regular, consistent lifestyle she settled into rocked her into a complacency she'd never known before.

Maybe, just maybe, this was what it was like to be a normal child, a normal kid. She didn't have to worry about anything. All she'd had to do was stop fighting. If only she'd known, if only she'd figured it out years before that she didn't have to carry the load of worries that so often nearly suffocated her...

Nearly killed her...

The nightmares stopped. Upon his request, she began joining Riddick at his anger management sessions, where she learned and practiced techniques for dealing with her rage. She learned how to take calming breaths, how to deal with completely unreasonable people, and lastly she learned mental exercises that she had to practice not only while trying to control how she expressed herself, but every night before she fell asleep.

After a couple weeks she went shopping with Shella, and they got along fine. She'd never seen Riddick so happy in her life. And that...that almost made it all worth it.

Everything was going great, it was so perfect. But for some reason, she still felt sad. It was like she was forgetting something, and she would try and try to remember what it was but it was always just beyond her reach. She completely forgot the verses of her rhyme. Started to forget a lot of things, actually. She didn't blame Riddick for thinking he wasn't as sharp as he used to be. That was how she felt too. Like things just dulled, hazed over.

But on the other hand, what kind of crazy person would she be if she didn't enjoy finally having a family looking out for her, so she didn't have to be constantly on the lookout? It was, really nice...

School was going great. She had some of the best grades in the class for the first time in her life. Most of her evenings were spent studying, so it was no wonder, really. She had become part of Hope's group, now as something of a lackey. But Jack couldn't bring herself to care. She liked doing things for Hope, helping her out. The girl never asked anything truly bad of her, just simple things. Things that, normally, she probably would've recognized as being drug-related things.

She went to the occasional movie and sleepover with the group, but never to any of the parties they attended. She didn't drink anymore. Didn't eat meat. Didn't do a lot of the reckless things that used to eat up her spare time.

She did finally cave, and went to one party on a Friday night with Riddick and Shella's encouragement. Her quarter-term reports came back straight A's, and Shella told her to think of the party as a reward. The thing she was too slow to pick up on was that it was quite obvious Shelly wanted her out of the house for the night, so she could have Riddick to herself. He'd been spending more time at work and with Jack than with her lately and her jealousy had never truly abated. She was just so subtle about it that Jack didn't notice anymore.

Or worse yet. Because Jack didn't care.


	22. Taking The Fall

AN: There WILL be rape themes and a general description in this chapter. If you don't like it, don't read anything beyond thepage breaktowards the end of the chap.

Thank you.

* * *

She sat at the bar on a stool, twirling around slowly. No one was really talking to her. Why would they? She wasn't drinking, and she wouldn't buy anyone else a drink. She was just a space filler. Only now she didn't even have the sense to at least observe, make the most of not being noticed.

A girl, Roxie, one of the girls that Jack had met through Hope, staggered over to her and plopped down on a stool beside her.

Roxie was raging drunk, and looked depressed to boot. For a long moment she simply stared at the surface of the bar, her long, blonde, messy hair falling into her face in frazzled clumps.

Finally she looked up, eyeing Jack through the veil of her mussed hair, almost glaring at her. "You know, what I can't figure out, is why you're letting her use you. I thought if anyone could see through Hope it would be you. I thought you were smarter than that, Jack," she hiccupped loudly, then quickly brought her voice down, as though she were afraid someone would overhear her.

Jack merely raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean? Hope and I are friends, she's really nice to me..."

"Oh bull-fucking-shit, Jack! Hope's using you! She's using you to run her drug money in envelopes between kids during school, so if anyone gets caught she won't have to take the heat. She can just dump it all on you. And in case you didn't notice, this entire bar is filled with people from our class, if they're eighteen or not. Hope rented it out and paid off the staff all because tonight is Shane Connell's big 'welcome home' bash. He just got back from wherever his rich ass parents sent him, and anyone who's anyone in the senior class is here tonight. I'll be absolutely amazed if there isn't at least one suicide reported in the paper tomorrow morning because some girl didn't get invited and she was just sure that meant her life was over."

Jack only shook her head, taking a drink of Hydrite. "I still don't get it, what's all that have to do with me? I was practically shoved out of my house tonight. I didn't care if I went to this party or not."

Roxie rocked slightly on her stool, and for a moment Jack was sure she was going to fall off it backwards. Grabbing the edge of the bar at the last second, she steadied herself, hiccupping again. "The point is, Jack, that Shane is Hope's ex. They were a hot item from Freshman year until last spring, when he left her for Abigail Moore. You know Abby, don't you? Hope hangs out with her all the time, almost to the point of being her lapdog. Whenever she does anything with Abby she takes you along with her; so you should know her."

Jack nodded, still absently turning herself back and forth in her chair. She knew Abby. Not well, necessarily. But well enough to know that she was a nice girl. "So Hope sucks up to the new girlfriend. I still don't see how she's setting me up."

Roxie leaned in closer, at last lowering her voice so that no one else would be able to hear what she said but Jack. "Listen, honey. If I were you right now, I'd get the hell out of this place as fast as I could. Because by the end of the night, Hope's going to tell Shane that while he was off nearly pissing himself in his grandma's fruit cellar, you and Abby were getting _extremely_ hot and heavy. She's going to make it out to be like you two were involved with each other to spite him, and that you both spend all of your time laughing at how 'inadequate' he was. And since she's best friends with both of you, who's to say she's lying? Especially when most of her little brat pack backs up the story, swearing on whatever's handy that everything Hope says is as true as the day is long.

"You should already know that Shane isn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box, he'll believe anything if enough people tell him it's true. It isn't exactly his brain that Hope's after. She wants him because he's rich. He gave her everything she ever desired while they were together, and she got to be the brains behind every little scam and illegal activity he and his gang ever pulled off. You starting to catch on now? She's going to set you up, you're going to take the fall so she can get him back."

Something constricted in Jack's chest, but her mind refused to be moved by this turn of events, refused to be brought back to sharpness from the comfortable haze it had fallen into. Instead of sharpening up and casually looking around to check out the exits, her eyes simply glazed over a little bit more. "Hope wouldn't do that, Roxie. She's my friend. Besides, why would you warn me?" she asked, desperate to rationalize what she was hearing.

Roxie only rolled her eyes. "You sure you haven't been smoking some of Hope's weed? I'm doing this because when Hope tells Shane how macho you've been about stealing his girlfriend away from him, just like you were when you publicly humiliated him the first day of school, he's going to use it as an excuse to kill you. You're going to be wearing a gigantic red target on your back before this party is over, and this time the end result won't be some little fist fight. They'll probably murder you, drag you to an alley, and then blame it on The Flame Stalker. They'll say that you were being initiated into their gang and the Vipers had you killed. Things like that have happened before around here, Jack, believe me. If your parents have enough money, you can get away with anything around here. And I mean anything. Get out of here, Jackie, get out right now. Go home."

Roxie had been more than a little tipsy, and upon finishing her confession she had to jump up from her stool and run for the bathroom. Jack just sat there, watching her go, and wondered just briefly if she should pay heed to her warning.

_It's crazy, there's no way. Just forget it, Jack, she's only trying to scare you off. She's probably just jealous that you're better friends with Hope than she is._

Her reasoning made far more sense than the nutty story she'd just been presented with, and Jack decided that she wouldn't be made into a victim. She would stay, and then Hope or one of her other new friends would give her a ride home before it got too late. Or even better, perhaps one of them would have a slumber party for the whole group of them. For now, she could just sit back, relax, and wonder why the guy next to her was staring at her like she was a choice piece of meat...

Jack turned a little more, taking note of the dark man she'd finally noticed was sitting on the opposite side of her stool than Roxie had been. How long had he been there?

"Excuse me, do I know you?" she asked, squinting at him. He looked familiar, but maybe it was just a trick of the dim lighting and the disco ball on the dance floor.

He smirked at her lack of memory. "Yeah, you know me, babe. I felt you up in a closet about a month and a half ago, and believe me, I never forget a pair of breasts."

Jack closed her eyes, nodding, remembering that incredibly embarrassing moment. Hadn't she felt good thinking back on that at some point? "Right, Dom. I remember you now," she said, absently tapping her temple with her index finger. "Sorry, the memory's a little fuzzy right now."

Inside Dom growled, pissed that he'd lost his inside contact. She'd gotten so close to completely trusting him, then she'd dropped off the radar. For a while he'd thought maybe he'd rushed it, scared her off once she'd gotten a chance to think about it. But he'd been following her for weeks, and now he knew it was even worse than that. It looked like somehow Shella had managed to dig her claws into the girl as well, just like she had done to Riddick.

He'd have to start all over again with her.

_Should've known something like this might happen, Conte. First Riddick, now Jack. Wicked witch has some strong mojo she's setting loose. Better figure out what the fuck it is, and quick._

Of course, on the outside, his demeanor was still as cool and pleasant as ever. Sometimes he even amazed himself with his patience. He was going to need it after the work he'd put in on converting this girl into his little helper only to lose her totally and completely. "Yeah, don't worry about it, Jackie girl. This just means we can get to know each other all over again. Come on, let's go get a burger or something, hang out for a little while. I'll take you home later. Unless you'd rather stay..."

Even while he was suggesting the plan his eyes were scanning the room behind her. He quickly located the leader of the Flames, Shane Connell, who had just arrived and was already hanging on his girlfriend. Jack's friend, Hope, was looking like a young woman on the outs the way she was standing alone off in a corner by the emergency exit, staring daggers at anyone who came near. He paused his scan of the room momentarily, resting his attention on her.

_Looks like someone's going to be experiencing a woman's scorn tonight. Just make sure it isn't Jack, and that's an order._ His beast growled its indifference. For once _it_ wasn't going to give him any problems while he was working. Just as long as _it_ got what _it_ wanted.

"Sorry, Dom isn't it? I don't eat meat anymore, and even if I did, I really don't know you that well and I'm not allowed to go off alone with strange men. Maybe we could go to the park or something tomorrow afternoon, would that be okay with you?" Jack asked, not particularly wanting to hurt this poor guy's feelings, but at the same time feeling an obligation to at least give him a little hope that he had a chance. Even if he didn't.

It took all of Dom's inner strength to _not_ turn an annoyed gaze in her direction. It wasn't like the odds were very good she would've seen it even if he did. He was wearing his shades, as usual. But still, it was the principle of the thing. His control of his exterior had to be perfect at all times.

His interior, well...that was another story...

_Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! She wasn't even THIS bad when you first fucking met her! If I ever get done with this psychofuck job, that bitch is going to die in so many horrible ways for all she's done to fuck me up! _

At last the beast began to growl inside him, just about fed up with being restrained. Dom wasn't exactly in the mood to keep it under wraps anymore that particular evening. By that time, he was all for the idea of throwing open the cage door and sitting back to see what happened.

He smiled at Jack, his sheep's clothing still successfully hiding the wolf clawing to get out. "You sure you don't wanna come with me, Jack? It'd probably be a lot more fun than sticking around with the junior badass team of the burbs." His eyes shifted once again, this time following the deft movements of the barkeep as he picked up Jack's drink and wiped underneath it, then set it back down. She didn't notice, but Dom noticed everything. Including the little white pill that had almost instantly dissolved in the crimson liquid.

_Wonder who ordered that? Connell? Some other teenaged player wannabe trying to get laid tonight?_

"Really?" she asked rhetorically, cocking an eyebrow. "The junior badass team of the burbs? And I suppose that you're the real deal, huh? Do you think you're bad, Dom?"

"To the bone," he half-growled, never taking his eyes off her drugged sports drink, until he slowly turned his gaze back to the spot where Hope was standing.

If Jack had been paying attention, she would've recognized the look of a predator when he's just spotted prey.

"Pfft." She rolled her eyes. "And just how many women has _that_ cliché worked on for you?"

Conte completely ignored her comment. "Watch your drink," he warned shortly as he got up and stalked off stiffly in Hope Anderson's direction.  
He was too busy, too distracted by the incredible, undeniable demands of the demon within him to worry about the job right then. He needed it hard, fast, and right fucking now. Taking care of Jack was secondary. It wouldn't be primary until he got back. He'd check on her later, when he could handle being around her while she was acting so fucking nutty.

_Besides,_ he thought, wrapping one large paw tightly around Hope's thin neck and shoving her out the back door before she had the opportunity or the air to protest and attract any unwanted attention. _Even if you lose the girl, it's not like it would be the end of the world. You'd find some other way to complete the mission. _

_You always do._

* * *

"Who are you?" the girl choked when he let her go, after he'd slammed her hard against the brick wall of the bar in the back alley, just restraining himself so he wouldn't knock her unconscious should her head crack on the hard surface.

Dom snarled inhumanly as he ripped her blouse open, baring her chest to the light of the planet's twin moons. A short backhand to the side of her head stopped any more attempts on her part to run, speak, or struggle. For the first time in her life, Hope had come up against a man capable of putting her in her place. A man who would totally and completely dominate her, if she wanted him to or not.

He leaned down when she quit squirming and resigned to merely cringe before him, barely touching any part of her as he inhaled her scent.

She didn't know who he was, or how he'd picked her...but when he took her hard without wanting or needing her consent she decided she liked him. She liked it that he didn't care if he hurt her, or if she thought he was good. She was at his fucking mercy, and if she had a problem with that it was _her_ fucking problem.

Everywhere he touched her he left bruises. When she screamed in pain he reengaged his hold on her already damaged throat, squeezing until even her quietest whimpers ceased. And then he sqeezed even harder, until some part of her neck gave, popping loudly in protest.

It was strange, how so many people had called her a whore, even to her face, yet before that night she hadn't ever been treated like one. He didn't kiss her, didn't try to tell her he loved her when it was over. He just let her sag down to the pavement, her back still leaning against the wall, her eyes focused on nothing but him. She felt too tired and abused to move. It wasn't until then that she realized her clothes were as torn up as her insides. She wouldn't have been able to go back to the party even if she'd been able to crawl. It was the first time she'd ever bled like that.

Upon release most guys were sorry if they thought they'd been rough. But the business-like way in which he rearranged his clothes afterwards, and then stalked off without a second glance made it clear that he didn't play by the regular rules. He was neither sorry nor afraid of being caught. His confidence was complete. She doubted he cared about leaving her there, even if he knew he might be leaving her there to die. To be picked off by some other stalker in the night. He hadn't done it because he'd wanted her, hadn't done it to spite her, he'd done it because she was there. He'd done it because he could. In his eyes she wasn't popular, she wasn't a conquest or a trophy; she was a warm body to fuck and nothing more.

She fell into unconsciousness, still just thinking about that. And strangely enough, in the fevered dreams she had, he did it again. The strange part being that, to Hope, it wasn't a nightmare.


	23. A Reawakening

AN: Thanks so so so so much to everyone for the excellent reviews. I've never been more motivated to write a story than Ihave been to write this one and I give you guys all the credit! Thanks!

* * *

It was still dark when Jack woke up. She felt groggy, sick. Her whole body was shaking, but only mildly. And God, why the fuck was her head pounding? She didn't remember having any alcohol at all, so what was up with the hangover?

She groaned, trying to sit up, and falling back onto ? Indeed, she seemed to be covered up, lying on a couch, somewhere... Her eyes became a little wider as she began to wonder just where the fuck she was. And why didn't she remember leaving the bar? What...what the fuck?

She groaned again, trying to bite back tears.

_Just get out, Jack. Do what has to be done. You can break down later when you know you're safe._

She nearly passed out on her second attempt to get up, finding herself weak as well as sick. And worst of all, she felt like she was going to throw up. Did this place have a bathroom, at least?

"Lights up, thirty percent," rumbled a voice in the darkness. It was close to her, but not too close. At least ten feet away, she guessed. She couldn't tell for sure, most of the little energy she had was being concentrated on forcing out the cobwebs that had collected in her mind.

She had to shield her eyes, even against the dim light that came on at the man's request. Her shoulders slumped a bit, her whole body sagging with relief as she let herself fall back onto her side. Across the room Conte was sitting cross legged on the large mat he'd been sleeping on, staring back at her sleepily. From the look of it he too had just woken up.

"What fucking happened to me, Dom? I feel like I got hit by a truck..." she complained, no longer afraid of where she was or who was there with her.

He got up slowly, stretching his arms a bit as he walked towards her with the grace of a large cat. He paused to thunk down in a chair beside where she was lying.

Conte rubbed his face with both hands, still tired from all the running around he'd done the night before. But he had to explain things to her, had to make sure she understood what was going on. He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the morning phlegm built up in his airway, and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "Jack, do you remember me telling you to watch your drink last night?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Mm, not so much, no," she replied, shaking her head slightly, and for the briefest moment he wondered if she was playing dumb.

After a few seconds of intense study he decided to just take her word for it. It was possible she'd suffered some memory loss, everything considered.

"Well, you didn't watch it. Obviously, you drank it. I told you to _not_ drink it because I saw the bartender slip you a drug. And based on how long you've been out, and the slight memory loss, I'm going to guess that it was one of the newer date rape drugs on the market. Which one, I'm not exactly sure, but I know it's one that's probably rather easy for a teenaged boy in high school to get his hands on."  
Jack's eyes widened a bit, but not quite with shock or fear. Almost with skepticism. He'd known it would take a minute or two to sink in for her.

"Someone slipped me a roofie? Are you fucking serious? Holy shit. So, what happened, how did I get here..."

Conte raised a hand, motioning downward slightly to signal that she should shut up and let him continue. "I left the bar for about a half an hour, forty five minutes tops, and when I came back you were out on the dance floor, partying it up. The word I would've used to describe you at that point was _possessed_. A couple of guys from your class were trying to usher you out the front door, telling everyone that you were drunk and they were going to take you home. I grabbed what you'd been drinking and then followed them out to the front parking lot. I told the guys to take a fucking hike and then I brought you here, to my ship. You passed out, and you've been sleep it off ever since."

Thinking he'd finished, Jack jumped at the chance to ask the question that had been nagging harshly at the back of her mind. "Yeah, okay, but you swear to God that I didn't do anything while I was under I'm going to regret later?"

"Like what?" he asked, feigning being dead serious, but on the inside feeling the slight need to tease and torture her a bit if she gave him the chance. It would serve her right for all the crap she'd given him the night before. At least she seemed to be returning to normal...finally...

Jack propped her head up a little on her hand, still feeling tired and weak. It showed in her tone, she was so anxious she was almost stuttering. "Like, did I fuck or get fucked by anyone? I mean, probably nothing really horrible happened in the bar. But, what about us? I mean, it's okay. If I came onto you, I don't care...cause, I mean, you warned me and I didn't listen, so if we did, I won't get mad..." She was beginning to snowball, close to hyperventilating as she struggled and failed to recall what had happened during the large gap in her memory.

"Jack," he said, abruptly bringing her back to her senses. That same amused, cocky smirk played over his face. My how he enjoyed watching her talk herself in circles like that. "Jack, I think you were a virgin when you walked into that bar last night, and you're still a virgin now. I didn't touch you, and I made sure no one else did either. Okay?"

The look on her face when he told her that was absolutely priceless. Wide eyes, slack jaw. It was as though her features had frozen into the perfect imitation of disbelief. "How the fuck did you know I'm a virgin?" she asked, as if she found the concept that he'd figured it out absolutely stunning.

Dom instantly cracked up. He couldn't help it, he simply roared with laughter. Genuine for once, not fake. God, this girl was too much. How did he know? How could he _not_ know? He tipped back on two legs of the small chair, giving no sign of letting up any time soon.

"What?" she nearly whined, hating being left out of his joke. "What's so fucking funny?"

He was surprised he didn't have to wipe tears from his eyes as he finally calmed, looking at her with wicked pleasure in his gaze. "Babe, if you weren't a virgin, you wouldn't have asked that question in the first place. So I figured either no one's popped your cherry, or you've been with some seriously malnourished pencil-dicks. Which I suppose is possible, but highly unlikely. If you'd been with me last night, Jack, you'd know. Trust me. You'd know," he chuckled shamelessly, still unable to believe that a girl who was usually so on top of things had never even considered...

After a two beat pause during which she considered what he'd said, Jack turned those innocent jade doe eyes back on him and softly asked, "How?"

Dom's chair fell hard onto all four legs as he stifled another fit of uncontrollable laughter, managing to reduce it to a short snicker . He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the knees of his black sweat pants, feeling like a parent who needed to explain the birds and the bees to a child. "Well, let's just say you'd be sore, down there." His eyes flicked mischievously towards the 'down there' he meant, and Jack instinctively pulled her blanket tighter around her body. "And I doubt you'd be able to walk today. Especially if I'd been your first."

"Sounds like you really know what you're talking about. You never struck me as the kind of guy who'd be so impressed with himself, Dom," she said, sounding just shy of accusatory.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, hoping he was taking on a more modest aurora for her benefit. "Yeah, well. When you lose your virginity at the tender age of twelve and never look back...that has a tendency to happen. I've been with a whole hell of a lot of women. I ain't bragging, that's a fact. The point is that not a single one of them ever woke up the next morning and questioned whether or not they'd been with a man the night before. But, enough with that, I'm getting off track. The other thing I was going to tell you, was that the sports drink you were drinking didn't just have the date rape drug in it. It had Seka in it, Jack. You know what that is?"

She shook her head, her eyes drooping as sleep tried to pull her back into its depths. She didn't know, and honestly, at that point, she didn't care. But apparently Conte wasn't going to leave her alone until she did care, cause as soon as she started slipped off to dream land he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to sit up.

"Come on, Jackie girl, no sleep until you hear me out. You've been sleeping for the past eighteen hours and it's time to wake up."

That got her attention, as he'd hoped it would. Her eyes flew wide again as she stared at him, almost horrified. "I've been under for eighteen hours?"

He nodded solemnly.

Jack cringed. "Guess it is time to be waking up then. Do you have any coffee?" she asked, her teeth chattering as chills began to overwhelm her.

Dom smirked. "Yeah, but the only kind I've got around here is the Irish kind."

Jack did something between nodding and shaking her head. She still wasn't entirely 'with it'. "That sounds good," she said absently, and he knew she was lying.

With how messed up her system was, Dom knew for a fact that hardly anything was going to sound good to her for a long time.


	24. Irish Coffee

AN: Dollars common is a reference to the common dollar used by the Empire. Other forms of money may be used locally, but 'common' is used everywhere in the galaxy.

AN2: Alright isn't a word. I just found that out like two days ago. My spell checker on Word never caught it. Stupid Word! smacks it with frying pan of death (tm) Props to Allison for once again helping me stay on course with the English language, which of course, is the only language I have... (And of course, thanks to everyone else who reviews too, lol).

* * *

He got her a cup of coffee, and brought it to her along with a bottle of scotch. She groaned when he poured it into the dark liquid, her head in her hands as she battled the horrible headache she was experiencing. 

"I don't drink anymore, Conte. I gave it up. I didn't know _that_ was what you meant by 'Irish coffee'."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Jack, you're going to drink this coffee and you're going to drink it with scotch in it. You're going to take the aspirin and the other pills I'm going to give you with it. I know that it's going to be hard for you to break some of the thought processes you've picked up over the past six weeks, but you are going to do it. I know you feel horrible, but you're already getting better, trust me."

She hesitated a moment longer, and Conte smirked at her. "Too chicken for a little booze, Jackie?" he teased.

"Okay, okay, I'll drink it," she relented, accepting the cream colored coffee mug from him and beginning the process of blowing on the scalding hot liquid, and then sipping it. As usual, she wasn't careful enough and immediately burned her tongue. "Is hot," she said, trying to stick out her tongue and speak at the same time.

Conte chuckled, never taking his eyes off of her. "Yeah, well it's coffee. Most people like it hot."

"Smart ash." She smiled back as best she could while fanning the end of her tongue with one hand, so he'd know she wasn't really mad. "Think I'll just let it cool for a minute," she said, after a pulling her burnt tongue back into her mouth. She redoubled her efforts to lower the liquid's temperature by blowing on the surface.

"Take as long as you want, as long as you drink it all. And while you do that, I'm going to work out. That cool?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow as he continued to tease her.

She nodded, waving one hand in a very stately fashion as if to say, 'You have my permission to proceed'.

Dom got up, walking over to his bed and picking it up, leaning it up against the far wall. While she watched he began his daily regimen of sit-ups, pushups, and basic martial arts drills and exercises. He'd been holding a one-handed handstand for a full three minutes when she finally attempted to speak to him again.

"Um, Dom? You said something about aspirin?"

He pointed towards the small end table on one end of the couch with his free hand. "Right there, Jack."

She picked up the assortment of pills that he'd placed there for her, and ended up swallowing them in three sets of two, draining her coffee in the process. When she was done she set down the mug and laid back down on her side, pulling the blanket around her and letting her head rest on a pillow. For a long time she just studied the meditation-like state that her new protector had assumed. She giggled a little. Strange that he did that while upside down.

And how exactly was he holding that exact position for so long? Sure, he had a freaking load of muscle mass, far more than she'd ever seen on a guy his age, but it was neither straining nor bulging to hold him upright. He simply _was_. It looked almost as natural as standing or sitting for him.

"How're you doing that, Conte?" she asked quietly, glad that it already seemed her headache was fading a little bit. The throbbing was starting to dull, if only slightly.

He opened his eyes, and for the first time since she'd woken up she realized he wasn't wearing sunglasses. He did indeed have a set of gorgeous ocean blue eyes. If they hadn't been so bloodshot at the moment, she would've immediately dubbed them the most beautiful she'd ever seen...

_Second most beautiful, Jack. You have a pretty big soft spot for silver, remember?_

"It's a thing I learned while I was in solitary confinement in Juvy Slam. Later I learned that it has a name. Lot o' people call it Onyshem. Some old Asian guy who lived dozens and dozens of years ago came up with this theory that people, especially people who aren't strictly human, have the mental capacities for at least partial control of all their working systems during periods of deep concentration. That includes heartbeat, breathing, hormone release, and smooth and skeletal muscles. In Juvy, it didn't take them long to figure out I'm an aquaphobiac. Scared to death of drowning. Sometimes as punishment, when I would get into trouble, they'd seal me in a tank of water or loc gel with only a hose to suck on to stay alive."

"That's horrible," Jack whispered, her brow furrowing slightly upon learning how badly they'd treated him.

Conte sighed, shifting his weight to the other arm before continuing, "Yeah, well anyway, the first time they did it, I was about eight. They chained my ankles to the bottom of the tank, then filled it up with water. I froze up, almost went into cardiac arrest after the water went over my head. You'd think they would've taken me out then, just thrown me into the regular solitary cell instead. But they didn't. They left me in there for nine hours. To me it seemed like a week. But, by the end of that first day, I'd started to learn how to slow down my breathing, slow down my heart. By the fourth or fifth time they did it I could almost put myself in a coma before the water reached my knees."

"Why didn't you report them when you got out?" Jack asked, concern lining her face. She instantly realized what a stupid question that was and lightly thumped herself on the head with the heel of her palm. "Duh, what am I thinking. I should know better than to ask that. Seriously, who would've believed you?"

"Well, apparently you do," he snickered. Had he ever actually told anyone about those times he got turned into a fish in a barrel for the warden's amusement?

_Nope, you didn't. You never told anyone that you wouldn't have been up for parole until you were twenty-one either. Think she'd still feel bad for ya if she knew that juicy detail?_

"So, about that...stuff...that was in my electrolyte drink. What exactly was it?" Jack asked at last, her curiosity finally overwhelming her feeling of being ill.

Conte lowered himself to the floor with the strength and grace of a gymnast. Considering his height and weight, and all the things she'd already seen him do in spite of it, Jack was beginning to wonder if maybe Dom was stronger than Riddick. With that thought a shiver ran down her spine, but she immediately scolded herself for it.

_Just because he's big and he can probably bench a house doesn't mean he's quick. You should know that, Jack._

He took up the position of sitting cross-legged on the cool steel surface, just as he'd been when she'd first seen him that...er, morning. Evening. Whatever part of the day it really was outside.

"Sure you're ready for this? It's pretty intense," he warned gently.

Jack nodded, sitting up as well, blanket still wrapped around her body to ward off the chills. "I'm ready. Give me what you've got."

Her returning tenacity yet again twisted a smile out of him.

_You have no idea how much I would enjoy doing just that, babe. And maybe sometime, I will..._

"I'm not surprised that you've never heard of Seka. It's a relatively new product, and groups within the Empire have gone to unprecedented lengths to keep the fact that it even exists away from the general public. People have died trying to reveal what this stuff is, and what it's being used for."

Jack leaned forward, propping her jaw up on one hand. "What is it used for? And how do you know so much about it?" she asked, her words a bit garbled because her mouth was partially covered by her palm. Her dull stare was a bit unnerving, but at least the color was returning to her cheeks.

Dom tipped his chair back, taking a long draw from the bottle of scotch he'd used to 'Irish' up Jack's coffee. "It's used by the military, non-human detaining facilities, and at all the numbered slammers. I'm sub-species human, a trouble maker, and I've spent an awful lot of time in Slam. They tried to use it on me when I did a three week stint in Slammer Nine a little over two years ago, when they were first introducing it. But my metabolism was too fast for it. My body would break it down before it could take effect on me."

"How did you know it didn't take effect on you? I didn't know it was affecting me," Jack said. The look on her face still skeptical. The effects of the drug were still apparent in that sense. Normally she probably would've been flying off the handle at this point, upon finding out that she'd been drugged.

Conte shrugged, spreading his arms in a 'you tell me' type of motion. "I could smell it in the water they gave us, that's how I knew it was in your sport's drink. It tastes a little bit sweet, so Hydrite was a far better fluid to hide it in than water. But yes, I was taking it, I had no choice. How did I know it wasn't working on me? I kept getting beat up by the guards, that's how I knew. Seka is used to brainwash people. Brainwash them to be snitches, to quit fighting with their cellmates, to kill, etcetera. Pretty much whatever you want that person to do, if you expose them to it enough while giving them a consistent dosage, they'll do it. It makes you become something between a spunge and silly putty. Absorbing everything, able to be shaped into anything."

"What if the person stopped using it?" Jack asked, still a little slow on the uptake of this huge new concept.

Conte chuckled deep in his chest, picking at the label on the scotch bottle. "They don't stop using it, Jack. Why do you think you're so sick right now? You've only been on it for a limited period and you're already experiencing a pretty nasty withdrawal now that you've been off of it for most of twenty four hours. It's probably one of the most addictive substance known to man. Here, have a drink," he advised, handing her the bottle.

Jack eyed it, still not sure if it was the appropriate time or place. "I don't know if that's..."

"There aren't gonna be many times in your life when it'll be good for you to get shit faced, Jack. But this is one of those times. Seka dissolves in water, alcohol dehydrates you. The scotch'll help flush it out of your system faster, in a manner of speaking. Drink and you'll be feeling almost like new in forty five minutes, an hour tops. I gave you a detoxification substance that'll help with the withdrawal symptoms, but it'll probably be a few days until you're really up to snuff."

"Any permanent effects?" she questioned, taking a big, long drink of the liquid gold.

It took Dom a moment to answer, he was too busy studying her face for any sign of flinching from the harsh taste. "Someone taught you how to drink," he stated rhetorically, finding the fact rather impressive.

_Wonder if it was Riddick..._

Jack cocked an eyebrow almost coyly, again raising the glass bottle to her lips. "Yeah, somebody did," she came back smoothly, taking another hard shot without batting an eye.

Conte's eyes glazed a bit as he laced his fingers behind his head, a cheesy grin spreading across his face as he tipped a bit farther back in his chair.

_Damn. That's kinda sexy. Girl must have steel lining in her throat. Bet she'd be real good at..._

_Snap out of it,_ he reminded himself sharply, shaking away the thoughts he'd have to save until he was alone. The cheesy grin remained, however.

"So, no permanent effects, right?" Jack asked again, bringing him the rest of the way back to reality.

The grin finally faded, just a little. "Ah, well, not technically. Rumor has it that once you get on it you'll always have moments when you feel a little...off. Certain places, smells, sounds, etc bring it all rushing back. It's like having a little bit of a split personality. From what I've heard, it's mostly just sensations once you're off it, but while you're on it there's a definite correlation between all those things and behavior exhibited by the individual."

Jack snapped her fingers, memories suddenly rushing back to her, triggered by this new information. Things made sooo much more sense now. "That's why Rick went all psycho when we got back to the house. That's where the crack ho's been brainwashing him. While he was at the port, he didn't have a bottle with him. He must've been off it for a while and the effects weren't as bad cause he wasn't in a place where people have been stuffing his brain with shit. I've got to get him off it too, Dom. I've just got to. You have no idea how much he means to me..."

Conte slowly got to his feet, pacing across the small living area that made up the majority of his ship. "There's just one more thing, Jackie, one more thing you've got to know. Well, actually there's two things. I'll help you if you want to try to get Mr. Costello off the Seka. I'll do everything I can. But right now I'm under the impression that he's been on it for quite a while. Years, even. It's going to be a lot harder for him than it was for you. Seka prevents the production of some chemicals that are essential for the brain to function and takes their place essentially, that's how the brainwashing process works. If you take him off it, he might not be able to adjust, to start producing those chemicals again after so long. It could cause him to slip into a coma and eventually die. It's not an overwhelming chance, but after two years or longer, it's probably upwards of a thirty percent..."

"It doesn't matter," Jack put in quickly, cutting him off. "Believe me, I know Rick a hell of a lot better than anyone else ever has, and if he knew that they'd done this to him, he'd rather be dead."

Dom nodded, a new appreciation dawning within him for the strength this girl possessed in spite of her small body. "All right. Then we'll do it. The only other thing you have to worry about, now, is figuring out just how the fuck 'the crack ho' is able to afford a chemical substance that costs up to twenty thousand dollars common per ounce. And more importantly, where the hell she dug up a dealer."

Jack smiled, feeling a hell of a lot better than she had for a long time. Physically, she was still swimming in shit, but the emotional relief almost made up for that. Things WERE going to get better.

"Oh trust me," she assured him, lazily bringing the bottle of scotch back to her lips. "When I get done with 'Shella', none of that's going to matter. Cause when this is all over I'm gonna have Rick back, and that little fucking bitch is going to be very, very dead. She thought she could fuck with Jack B. Badd, and I'm going to make sure it'll be the last mistake she'll ever fucking make." Jack winked at him before chugging down the last of the amber liquid and slamming the bottle down on the table beside her.

The fire in her eyes was burning brighter than it had since she'd left New Mecca. And soon everyone one would know that Jack was _back_.


	25. Imperfect

AN: Lots of universe background in this chap. If it gets confusing, let me know. It the italics don't show up, definately let me know;-)

* * *

Jack decided that it would be best if she went home that night. Leaving Riddick alone with the wicked witch any longer than she already had wasn't exactly an appealing thought, especially now that she knew he was being mind fucked. 

Dom insisted on walking with her. She was grateful. Honestly, she didn't know the way back to her neighborhood. Even if she had, every house in a five mile radius of Riddick's humble abode looked like an identical twin. It was her hope that her sub-species human escort had been born with evolved orienteering skills, and even if she couldn't find it he would.

Besides, the part of town where ships were stored between trips wasn't exactly the most friendly area. Never mind that it was well after dark and the streets were crawling with people who were, to say the least, rough looking.

"Aren't you ever afraid, living on this side of town?" she asked him while they walked. Her hands were thrust deep in the pockets of her jeans and her glances at him were sideways, nearly hidden by the medium length dark brown hair falling in her face.

He chuckled calmly, never breaking stride. If he knew she was stealing looks at him, he didn't let on. "No, Jack. I'm not afraid of this side of town. There ain't a God damn punk in this city who could kick my ass. Plenty who think they could, but no one who could actually get the job done," he declared calmly. There wasn't any excessive ego present in his voice. He absolutely believed what he was saying. No bragging, just simple fact.

Jack snickered inside. _Well, I used to know a guy, Dom. Right now you're probably right about him, at least. But if I have anything to say about it, someday soon, that's going to change._

She turned, walking backwards a few steps ahead so she could look him right in the face. "That's the second time since I woke up that you've talked like you're some kind of big man on campus, Dominic. I've always been curious, just how much time does one spend in the slammer before acquiring that 'my dick's bigger than your dick and even if it's not I can kick your ass anyway' mentality? Enlighten me," she invited sarcastically, just barely quirking one of her eyebrows.

Her tall escort tilted his head slightly, considering her for a moment before answering. "You do realize that there's a difference between me and any other tough guy you're ever going to meet, don't you? I'm not all talk. A hard knock life didn't make me who I am, Jack. I was born this way. If I hadn't been..."

"You wouldn't have survived, I know. So, you seriously think you're the toughest guy in town?" she challenged, eyes sparkling with mischief as she continued to walk backwards, soaking up everything about him.

Dom laughed. Jack was starting to love it when he'd do that. But she still wasn't quite sure why. Whether it was because she enjoyed making him laugh or because when he did he almost sounded like Riddick, she wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it was a bit of both. At the very least, she had a companion for once in her misadventures. And she planned to take full advantage of that fact.

"Yeah, I seriously think that I am absolutely the toughest guy in town. It sounds like bragging, but it's not so long as it's true. Don't you think?" he challenged back, considering her just as wholly as she was studying him.

Jack stopped walking, lightly crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't know what I think. What if by some weird chance some famous criminal lived in this town, and nobody knew about it?"

_Dangerous game, Jack._

Dom too paused. "Like who?"

"Richard B. Riddick. You've heard of him, right?" she challenged again, adding more than a hint of sarcasm this time to see if she could really get under his skin.

_If it's even possible to get under his skin. Face it, he's just about the coolest guy you've ever met._

_He can't be like that all the time. Anger is essential to survival. Sometimes you've got to be too pissed off to get beat down. Too pissed to die..._

Conte smirked, momentarily biting down on one side of his lower lip. "Yeah, I've heard of him. He was hot stuff back in his day...but now he's old news. He's been dead for what? Five years? Now that the orphans from the Fifty Twenty War are growing up, reaching adulthood, soon he'll be nothing but a pleasant memory to the mercs and law enforcement agencies within the Empire. Someday soon the guys in charge of keeping peace and order throughout the galaxy are going to start wishing that Richard B. Riddick was still the only thing they had to worry about.

"I've seen some of those kids in Juvy and the numbered slam I was in, Jack. They aren't human, and they aren't to be fucked with. I've heard rumors that they're being recruited into a resistance force that's going to try to overthrow the Empire. Imagine that, having all the most talented criminals in the galaxy united under one cause. Being trained to be the best disrupters of the peace that they can be. Rather frightening thought, isn't it?" he asked, his tone suddenly low and dangerous as he approached her, crossing the distance with three lazy strides.

A shiver ran down Jack's spine. She'd heard a few things about what members of the non-human species could do. Like just about everything else in the animal kingdom they were stronger, faster, and in some cases mentally superior on the average when compared to classic human beings. And when the Empire had discovered this was almost universally true, there had been a crusade to 'take back' the galaxy. A galaxy that hadn't belonged to humans or even sub-species humans in the first place.

The Fifty Twenty War.

Billions of people had been slaughtered. The Empire had come to be the reining government, ruling over the galaxy with an iron fist by the time the dust settled. Fifty species had been obliterated, leaving behind only a handful of survivors over the time span of a mere twenty months.  
All because they'd been considered a threat to the human race.  
Some of them were definite hazards, bent on wiping out other 'unworthy' races without rhyme or reason. But they weren't the only ones targeted. Every species that didn't have a solid alliance with the Empire was subjected to the genocide, regardless of the level of threat they posed.

"How many of them are left? Of the children? The ones they created the numbered prisons for. The ones they didn't put in zoos or labs to experiment on?" Her eyes were fixed on a point on the ground, she didn't have to look up to know that he was shifting his weight from foot to foot.

She could sense it, sense his nearness.

"Tens of thousands," he rumbled, his voice lower than she'd ever heard it before. Almost as low as Riddick's. Did he purposely try to keep it at a slightly higher pitch, to sound...what? Younger? She listened, enjoying the close familiarity of the tone he'd so suddenly fallen into, as he continued to speak. "The Empire spared all the young ones they didn't have to work hard to catch. Offered bounty hunters five hundred common per head for them. Would've been better for everyone if they'd just slaughtered them too. Officially, they said they were going to spare them, allow each species to continue through members they would program to be human from early childhood. You do know why they really spared them, don't you, Jackie?"

"To steal the strong parts of their genetic codes," she whispered. "To splice DNA and make the human race stronger. To cure cancer, to increase intelligence, to work towards making every human perfect."

"Exactly," he affirmed immediately, sounding very pleased that she'd caught on so quickly. "And it makes me wonder sometimes, when I'm going to be next. Cause whether you're non-human or sub-species human, you always end up in the same slammer when the Empire gets their greasy hands on you. Riddick would've known that. He was a sub-species. Wouldn't have ended up in Slam City if he wasn't."

Jack looked up at him suddenly, more than slightly stunned. Her eyes narrowed. "Why the fuck are you telling me all this? I asked you if you thought you could kick Riddick's ass, not if you'd like to lay a gigantic guilt trip on me for the sins of my race. It's not like I'm huge supporter of the Empire myself, in case you didn't notice..."

Dom smirked. "I know, Jack. I'm just telling you because tonight you found out how bad people can hurt you, stab you in the back. You were a runaway once, so I can talk about this shit with you. No one else would believe me. Lots of humans, they don't need Seka, they brainwash themselves. You're sharp, but you've been off your game for years. In case things go bad for you again, I want to make sure you know what the Empire's capable of, what your race is capable of, so that you're aware of what's out there. I don't want to see you getting hurt, babe. Now how bout I get you home, huh?" He slung an arm around her shoulders, lightly knuckling her on the chin, making her smile before he turned them both in the direction of her neighborhood.

After a moment's hesitation Jack slipped her arm around Dom's waist, letting it rest at first just above his belt line, then a bit higher, seeing as he was packing a gun on his back, in his waistband. He'd hidden it from view under a loose t-shirt.

_Well, at least now you know he's not really stupid enough to think he's invincible. Wouldn't be packing backup if he did._

_Think it might be about time that somebody started watching out for you again, Jackie?_

_Absolutely._

"Twice any day of the week, and three times on Sundays." His sudden interruption of her thoughts was so random and unexpected Jack couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"What the hell was that, Conte? You forget to take your medication today or what?" She snickered.

He grinned, letting a bit more of his weight rest comfortably on her shoulders as he pulled her tighter against his side. "You asked if I thought I could kick Riddick's ass, and that's my answer. Bring him back from the dead, Jackie, and I'll rumble with him anytime, anywhere. And that promise has the Dominic Conte guarantee of approval sticker stamped _all _over it."

Jack laughed, hard. She couldn't help it. The guy was incorrigible. Mentally, she taunted her companion...

_Wait and see, Dom. Wait and see. Cause I'd bet money that Riddick would give you more than a run for your pride. You'll see, when I bring him back._

_Back from the dead..._


	26. The Simple Things

AN: This one's a bit on the sappy side. I'd like to say that the next one will be better, but I haven't finished it yet, so I'm not sure if it will be. I blame being stuck in lecture all day. Lol.

* * *

_It would make a lot of sense, if he was. You've got admit that much, Jack. And it would explain a lot more. But if he's sub-species, why isn't he immune to the drugs, like Dom was in prison? Why wouldn't his body be able to break it down before it could effect his brain too?_

Too many questions, too long a night. Her headache was returning, and she'd been walking for too long when they finally reached the house. Either Conte's skull was stone thick or he just didn't let on that he knew she was getting slower and weaker by the minute.

In the silence she'd been remembering things. Things about times in her life that had been better. As the two of them trudged through the streets of the city she let her mind wander, remembering the pleasant things, the simple things...

_Dinner time. Fourteen year old Jack's favorite time of the day. She'd helped Imam prepare the food, putting off her homework as long as possible. Besides, she got to talk to her father figure during that time, absorbing the wisdom he so generously imparted upon her. Perhaps a little too generously for her liking at times, but she realized that his intentions were always good. That was more than she'd been able to say about the majority of the people she'd known in her short lifetime. _

_Riddick had just gotten home from work. And as usual, was starving for a good home cooked meal. He swaggered into the kitchen, moving as silently as a shadow, gracefully taking his seat. The wooden chair didn't even creak under his large frame. So of course, when Jack turned from the stove to check and see if she'd remembered the cups while setting the table, she was startled half out of her wits to see him there. _

_She gasped almost silently, but quickly attempted to cover it up the same way she always did when he managed to scare the crap out of her. "Holy shit, Riddick! What the fuck are you doing sneaking around like a Goddamn..." _

_"Criminal?" he finished for her, chuckling as he picked up his spoon and attempted to stick it in the nearest dish of delicious, steaming hot, oak table top... _

_Just before he'd been able to pinch himself a tasty morsel Jack had swiftly pulled the dish out from under his descending silverware, leaving his spoon nothing to land on but the glossy finish of the wood underneath. _

_Another display of the same quickness and she'd laid a slap on the back of his hand for good measure. "No eating until after prayer, Richard." _

_"And no swearing at the people within our home, Jacqueline," Imam reminded her upon returning to the kitchen. He'd left Jack to make the final preparations for their dinner, giving him a chance to take his growing number of medications in private. "Allah knows I can't cure either of you of the foul language you learned growing up, but I will not tolerate its use in regards to another human being. You may curse..." _

_"The universe, the Empire, mercs, homework, even Allah himself, but not each other..." Jack and Riddick recited together, finishing his sentence in perfect stereo. _

_Imam nodded, smiling a bit as he slowly moved to take his seat. "Now that we've taken care of that little matter, yet again, let us sit down and give thanks to Allah for this meal." _

_Jack sat down in her seat next to Riddick just in time to hear him mutter under his breath, "Bout fuckin' time." _

_She clamped a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle, bowing her head as Imam gave thanks to Allah in Arabic. _

_It had become normal for the two of them to needle each other. Even more common was their tendency to behave like two children living in the same household, watching each others' backs as they skirted around the rules and structure that Imam attempted to impose upon them. Rivalry defiantly had its place in their complicated relationship. Whether it was anything akin to sibling rivalry was yet to be determined. From Jack's perspective, Riddick was her best friend. As well as her mentor, hero, obsession... _

_"Allah be praised eternally," Imam finished in the common language, so they would know they were allowed to begin eating. _

_Jack glanced over at Riddick as he immediately reached for the closest thing edible, a roll, and devoured it like a man half-starved. As he tried to grab himself another one, she cleared her throat, causing him to pause mid-reach as she kicked him subtly under the table. _

_Slowly he turned to look at her, threateningly, the effect not dulled in the least by the goggles he was wearing. He raised one eyebrow as if to say 'what the hell do you want?'. _

_She smirked at him pleasantly, for Imam's benefit. "Please pass the Goddamn bread, Riddick." _

_He turned again, very deliberate in picking up one of the hot rolls and tossing it in her direction. Jack caught it with both hands, thanking him disingenuously. _

_"You're welcome, Jackie girl." A pause followed as he reached deep into the pocket of his cargos, and brought out his car keys, smacking them down on the table beside her plate. "Now get me a fucking beer. They're in the trunk, and no shirking on the ice this time." _

_She groaned, not even bothering to look at Imam. She knew HE wouldn't bail her out, even if alcohol supposedly wasn't allowed inside the apartment. The holy man tended to be rather forgiving of at least a few of Riddick's short comings, in order to make life with other people as comfortable as possible for the typically anti-social ex-con. _

_And as she exited the kitchen, she heard clearly Riddick's loud assertion of, "And while you're out of the house, Jack, make sure you tell someone to go fuck themselves for me." _

_She smirked, calling back over her shoulder just as loudly, "Come on out with me, and I will, Dick!" _

_

* * *

__After Jack returned with Riddick's beer and a glass filled with ice, the meal resumed. An easy silence hung over the three of them. Imam often suffered from headaches in the evenings, and neither of his 'foster children' were mean spirited enough to wish to be an added thorn in his side at all times. So when they both stuck a fork in the last piece of meat at the exact same instant in time, a glare was all that was exchanged between them. _

_Her eyes never leaving Riddick's face, Jack slowly picked up her butter knife, raising it in mock-threatening fashion as she struggled hard to keep her features locked in a look of dead seriousness. She wasn't sure if Riddick was fighting the same battle as he slowly raised his serrated steak knife in response, but for the briefest second she thought for sure she saw the corner of his mouth twitch up. _

_Not to be outdone, Jack put down her butter knife and reached for her shiv, cocking an eyebrow as she held it just under the table, so only Riddick would be able to see that she had it. _

_"Top that," she mouthed, silently snickering to herself as he shrugged, putting down his steak knife. _

_Convinced she'd won, Jack prepared to claim her beefy prize. But before she got the chance Big Evil very calmly made a bigger shiv appear seemingly out of nowhere. He easily twirled it within his grip, flipping it over the back of his hand and then catching it as if he'd been born doing it. The razor-sharp edge glinted in the soft kitchen light and she wondered just how the hell he managed to get that kind of balance... __  
_

_Jack reluctantly withdrew her fork, admitting defeat. For the time being she was out of tricks to play. _

_"Children, what have I told you about bringing weapons to the table?" Imam warned, no anger or surprise apparent in his voice. _

_Jack could only gape at him. How the hell had he known? Some sort of x-ray holy man vision? _

_Riddick only smirked. "What, this?" He brought his shiv into plain view. "I wouldn't call THAT a weapon. Just figured I needed something sharper to cut this meat, since everything else around here is as dull as a fucking spoon." _

_Quickly he sliced the piece in question into two equal portions and took one half, leaving the other for Jack. _

_Imam sighed, throwing his hands to the sky and looking up as though perhaps Allah Himself would understand the constant strife and mayhem that these two 'infidels' he'd adopted as his family brought into his life. "What am I to do with them? None of the other charges you placed in my care were so...difficult." _

_Riddick snorted, the only sign that he was even listening. His full concentration seemed to be on finishing his meal. "I'm difficult. Ever seen Jack drop her angel act, Holy Man?" _

_Imam eyed him. "I wonder where in the world she could've possibly gotten it from. Just look at her role model." _

_Jack cracked up, but attempted to smother her laughter with her napkin. Imam's nearly accusatory gaze slowly turned to her. "You have no room to laugh, young lady. When it's time for me to live in the assisted living center I will have to make arrangements for you. And since you so enjoy heckling our convict, I believe I'll marry the two of you. Then, while he's providing for you AND making sure you continue your education, you can pick and tease to your heart's content without driving anyone else up a wall. You'd make perfect lifetime companions." _

_Jack took on her best imitation of Riddick's smug look. "Ah, you wouldn't have me marry Riddick, Imam. You'd miss me too much." _

_Imam smiled at last. "I suppose you're right, child." He too returned his attention to his dinner, assuming the discussion had come to an end. _

_Jack, however, let her grin grow a little broader, her jade eyes positively glowing with mischief. "Besides, you wouldn't be able to stomach thinking about what he'd be doing to me on the honeymoon." _

_Imam hardly blinked at her brash comment, chuckling because he'd expected it from her, but Riddick choked on his beer. Some even sprayed out of his nose, much to Jack's amusement. In fact, she positively fell out of her chair laughing, hardly able to laugh and breathe at the same time. _

_Even Imam couldn't help but guffaw at the former sociopath's indignant reaction, especially after Riddick had gotten up and promptly marched his ex-convict ass out of earshot. _

_Eventually Jack got enough control over herself that she was able to right her chair and sit back down in it. She looked at Imam, and striking her most proper 'lady at the dinner table' pose, she asked him, "What do you suppose HE was thinking about right before I made that rather obvious reference to..." _

_"Jaack," Imam warned softly. "Don't make me send you to bed without dessert, child." _

_A short pause passed between them as they each drifted into their own thoughts, before Jack voiced the inevitable smartass response of, "Can I pick which bed you send me to?" _

_Imam smiled, shaking his head. He loved the girl's spunk, but sometimes... "Allah, no. I'd be unsuitable as a parent if I allowed such indiscretions to occur under my roof. Besides, I believe you've terrorized Mr. Riddick enough for one night, Jacqueline. I won't have you driving him back to murderous tendencies after he's made so much progress. As you were so astute in pointing out earlier, I would miss you, terribly."_

Those had been the good old days. And that was just one of dozens of memories she had stored away for the hard times. Hard times like these.

As she and Conte approached the door of Shella's gingerbread house, Jack was strongly reminded of the story of Hansel and Gretel. She had a really bad feeling about going back into the lion's den and was starting to think that just maybe it wasn't such a fantastic idea.

_Bet Old Horny would try to cook and eat us. The bitch. _

Then again, looking at Conte from under his arm, Jack really couldn't blame any woman for wanting to eat him.

She was a bit tempted herself, as a matter of fact.

"What?" he asked, smiling dully when he noticed her staring up at him.

She stopped walking, and so did he. "I was just thinking that you're incredibly good looking, like Rick. And that Shella, is a whore."

He smirked at the compliment. "Thanks, but why do I get the feeling like I'm about to become a pawn in your chess game with this woman, Jack?"

"No, Dom, nothing like that. I'd never think of you as a pawn," she assured him, her brow creased with concern that he might think that.

Conte shrugged. "Yeah, that's good I guess. But you should know that if you're serious about playing the game, you should use every resource you've got, babe. That's rule number one."

After bearing in mind what he'd said for a long moment, Jack considered him with a great deal of mock-seriousness, cocking her head a bit to the side. "How does being a knight strike you, Dom?"

He smirked. "For you, baby, I'd be anything.

"Anything but the queen..."


	27. Jack's Knight

* * *

Almost as though he could read her thoughts, Dom removed his arm from her shoulders as Jack attempted to open the front door. Part of her wished he hadn't. But on the other hand, should they be seen together she'd rather not have to answer the questions sure to come as a result.  
It turned out to be wise thinking. Jack's handprint once again wasn't registering with the house's computer, so she had to ring the doorbell. 

And guess who answered it. The wicked witch of the west herself... Figured, since Riddick was probably away at his anger management classes. It was, after all, a Saturday night. Where the hell else would he be?

Shella crossed her arms over her chest upon seeing the two of them, leaning with one shoulder braced against the doorframe she pursed her lips, her face twisting into something that was both cruel and smug at the same time. Jack hardly had to work her imagination at all to see a pointy black hat crowning her fake blonde hair.

"Well, well. Look what the dog dragged in. I almost thought you weren't coming back, Jackie dearest. Who's your friend?" Sugary sweet, and yet so evil.

Jack was imagining popping Shelly in the mouth. Standing beside her, Conte was having similar thoughts, if from a more male perspective...

The syrupiness of Shella's voice just about made Jack start screaming, lose herself completely. But the flash she saw in the ex-stripper's eyes made her pause.

_She's pissed as hell that you came back...alive. Use it against her. You're the one in control here now, Jackie._

Jack forced a nasty smile as she reached for Conte's arm, pulling him close so she could hug his thick bicep, silently willing him to play along. "This is Dominic Conte, Shella. My boyfriend. And no, he won't fuck you. Unless you'd like to suck his dick until Ricky gets home, I might let you get away with that. Who knows, it might even be fun to watch." She winked in Shella's direction, trying to sound like she just might be serious about the invitation.

_You are a bad, bad girl, Jack. I suppose you actually think she'll take you up on that offer too. Even if she did, Riddick's probably so fucked up that he'd forgive her even if he did catch her cheating. Time to start rolling your eyes at the poor naive fool...now that you aren't one too._

She felt, rather than heard Dom's low snicker vibrating through his chest. Internally, Jack was relieved. The last thing she wanted to do right then was go too far and drive off the only friend she had.

Shella's eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth a bit in preparation for the major cat fight she was about to enter into with the teenaged girl before her, but she bit back her words as Riddick's car pulled into the driveway.

Jack and Conte both whipped around upon hearing the noise, separating instantly. Equal in magnitude to Jack's relief that she probably wouldn't have to compete in a screaming match while her brain was still feeling like an egg cooked sunny-side up, was Dom's feeling of exhilaration at the prospect of finally meeting _the_ Riddick.

Finally getting to see how they measured up. Physically at least.

In height, Dom won easily. He guessed he had a solid four inches on the old man who was soon standing in front of him. The At one time this man had been public enemy number one, and had earned the title of such.

Now...now the bitch was whipped.

_That ain't all he'll be when you're done, Domy boy. Now make sure you smile real nice for Jack's big bro. Wanna make a good impression don't you? Seeing as you're the new boyfriend..._

His near-silent growl could've been mistaken for a wicked purr as the evil smirk he'd perfected in slam instinctively slipped into place.

It was the one that showed all of his beautiful white teeth. So white, they seemed to glow in the heart of the numbered prisons, where black light was the only light. Made him look pleasantly freakish, actually. Like a shark hunting for any fool fish that might swim too close. Even more frightening was how he could quickly slip back into the shadows that would hide his body, and yet his smile remained, haunting those left alive to see it slowly fade away.

Just like the Cheshire Cat.

Riddick, however, didn't even seem to notice him as he slowly made his way up the walk. The guy looked tired, ragged, and his entire focus was on Jack. For the moment, at least.

Dom watched with marked interest as Rick placed a firm hand on Jack's shoulder, looking her straight in the eye.

"Where have you been, Jack?" he asked. "I was out looking for you all afternoon."

The girl shrugged, and Dom couldn't quite tell if perhaps a bit of guilt that she might've had Riddick worried was tugging on her conscience. "I went to the party, and I wasn't careful enough. Someone slipped a date rape drug in my hydrite. Fortunately Dom was there. He told the guys who were trying to get me to go with them to fuck off and he took me to this guy he knows who's a retired doctor. I was unconscious for eighteen hours. I just woke up not that long ago," she said, sounding like just about the most pathetic thing alive.

Conte almost had to snicker. The girl was good, real good.

_Keep those beautiful green eyes wide and bat those eye lashes, baby. The sucker's going to believe whatever the hell you tell 'em._

"Why didn't you take her to the hospital?" Riddick demanded, turning his gaze away from Jack and finally acknowledging Conte's presence.

The question jarred Dom from his thoughts, but like always, he somehow managed to land on his feet. "She told me when I met her that she used to be a runaway. I just happen to be one too, and I know that sometimes even a kid can manage to rack up a record in a hurry, under the right circumstances. For all I knew, she was wanted; maybe even had a price on her head."

"Bullshit," Shella interjected harshly. All attention slowly turned in her direction. She was still blocking the doorway, her slim arms crossed over her busty chest. "Come on, Rick. You aren't seriously buying this fantasy, are you? Poor little Jack got drugged and then her knight in shining armor had to come save her? Yeah, that's likely. They were probably fucking in a motel somewhere and she just didn't have the decency to call and tell you she'd be late, even after all you've done for her."

A dead silence fell over the small group. Crickets could almost be heard chirping in the background.

Finally, Jack cleared her throat, preparing to speak. "Well, Shella. It's like this. THAT PROBABLY would've been what really happened if I were you. You know, a slut who would stripped off her clothes for money, among other things. Buuut, I'm DEFINITELY not you. I have a little of this stuff called 'self respect'. You, on the other hand, shoved me out the door last night so you could get hot and heavy with Ricky without having to worry about me hearing you. WELL GUESS WHAT, SHELLA! I CAN HEAR YOU TWO FUCKING EVERY FUCKING NIGHT! Enjoy him, bitch. You won't have him much longer. So says Jack B. Fucking Badd!" Upon finishing her short crescendo of a tirade, Jack was all ready to shove past her mortal enemy and march angrily up to her room to spend her night making up battle tactics.

But it soon became apparent that Dom had other plans for her.

Before she could get out of reach he snapped up her wrist and in the blink of an eye had whipped her back to him, pulling her body tight to his chest. She didn't get to be confused for more than a second before she felt his fingers entwined in her hair as his hand cradled the back of her head, and his lips were crushed against hers.

It was a very brief but wild ride that sucked just about all the air right out of her body. And when he released her, tossing a casual and far too smug 'how do ya like that?' look in Big Evil's direction, Jack was absolutely positive she'd just completely fallen in love with him.

"See ya Monday, babe," he said, not a hint of modesty present in his tone or the way he was looking down at her, the lips he'd just kissed her so throughly with turned slightly upwards in that cocky grin she loved so much. He squeezed her chin playfully between his thumb and forefinger before turning, and disappearing back out into the darkness of night.

She knew she was smiling dumbly. She just couldn't help it at the moment.

_There goes your knight in shining armor, Jack. Bet you never thought you'd have one of those..._

And the best part was, of course, the fact that seeing Conte kiss her had left Riddick staring at her so stupidly.

She laughed just seeing him with such a dull, slack jawed appearance on his face.

Who woulda thunk? Big Evil was shocked into silence!

Deep down, in the evil part of her she'd so recently rediscovered, Jack was hoping that someday soon, Riddick would have quite a lot to say about who she would and would not kiss or be kissed by.

_Got a feeling that pretty soon, Riddick's going to be quite pissed about a lot of things_, Jack thought on her way up the stairs to her room. She threw her head back and cackled evilly.

In a mocking, sing-song voice she began to recite,

"Shelly D. Bitch sat on a wall..."

"Shelly D. Bitch is about to get her ass kicked..."


	28. Loving the Taste

AN:100 reviews. Holy cow that's a lot! Thanks so much you guys, I so totally, totally appreciate it! Extra brownie pointsfor number 101? grins I think this chapter is more fun than the last couple, but hopefully the next few will be a ton better.

* * *

Monday brought several surprises with it. The first of which was _not_ that Jack was on the edge of collapse after many, many hours of planning out the intricate details of _exactly_ how she was going to turn the tables in her favor. It turned out that her little eighteen hour nap had given her quite a kick, a new relish for fighting the war she was so deeply entrenched in. Especially since she didn't couldn't get back to sleep again for well over twenty four hours. 

And nearly every minute of that twenty four hours was spent on the design of her semi-evil plot.

It was a hard fought struggle to force herself out of bed when her alarm clock sounded at five AM Monday morning. But it was time. Time to put phase one of Operation Riddick Reboot into action.

Phase one consisted of finding Shella's store of what appeared to be a normal herb or spice to the untrained eye, but what turned out to be the crushed remains of the dried weed called Seka. And then, after discovering its wherabouts to be in a large container sitting next to an identical flour bin, she had to dump all of the hydrite in the house down the drain and replace it with a fresh batch with a fraction of the dose of mind control substance included. This had been Dom's suggestion. His reasoning had been that it was possible that Rick could be somewhat weaned off the stuff, and that might help when she really pulled the plug on him. She'd taken his word on that, and on the amount that would serve as a 'reduced dose'.

As far as phase one went, everything went to plan, no surprises. No one walked into the kitchen at the wrong moment to ask her what she was doing. She'd been especially nervous about this happening while she was slipping the 'full dose plus half' into Shella's refrigerated Tupperware bottles of iced tea.

That had been Jack's idea, totally and completely.

The surprises didn't come until she got to school. The very first one being that Hope Anderson was quite obviously missing from the ranks of her little blonde army. Jack had just purchased a sausage and egg biscuit from the breakfast line in the cafeteria and was looking for a place to sit down when she noticed the pack of girls frantically motioning her over, beckoning her to come sit with them.

Almost as soon as she sat down she was overwhelmed by the battery of questions coming from all of them at once. She nearly had to yell just to get them to shut up and explain their concerns to her one at a time.

Jack pointed to Roxie, the girl who'd warned her about Hope's possible treachery at the party. The decision to turn to her partially came from the fact that Jack had begun to trust her, slightly. And partially because she was the only girl not clamoring for her immediate attention. "You, tell me what the hell they're talking about," Jack ordered impatiently.

Roxie looked up at her calmly. "Hope was raped outside of the bar Saturday night, during the party. Whoever did it just left her out there after he was done and took off. From what I've heard he strangled her, but let her go before she suffocated. Depending on who you asked he either cracked a vertebra in her neck or he crushed her voice box. Either way, vocal cords still functional or not, she's not talking about who did it. She's still in the hospital now cause her lights are on, but nobody's home. Get my meaning?"

Jack nodded once, but it wasn't a truthful response, only an 'I see' type of reaction to the news. In reality, she didn't understand at all. Why the hell would they be talking to_ her_ about this?

Fortunately Roxie seemed to perceive that she wasn't understanding yet. "You were the expert behind the Viper Killer's motivation, Jack. They want you to explain to them what he did to her, and why she won't talk about it. They think you'll have all the answers to this puzzle too."

Jack raised her eyebrows slightly. That was it? They wanted to know what had happened to Hope and they turned to her for answers? What would possess them...

_Keep in mind that they're innocent, Jack._

_Duuuh..._

A small tug began at the back of her mind at that thought. A tug she hadn't felt for years, not since she'd come to be comfortable living in Imam's home. She knew it, recognized it, and immediately thanked Allah for its timely return.

The instinct to use every opportunity that came her way, squeeze every bit of good she could get out of it. To look at every situation as a chance to get the upper hand, and if they let her, she would. Survival rule number one. This was an opportunity. These girls were begging for a leader, and all she had to do was step up.

But what would be in it for her?

She could be the leader of this pack of super-popular girls in Hope's absence, and she would gain, what?

Power. Power within the school. The power that these rich girls' parents held on the school board. Disciplinary invincibility. Considering everything she would probably be needing to do over the next few weeks, getting away with skipping class once in a while, among other things, could come in VERY handy. Especially if she didn't have to worry about tangling with the administration...

_Hope didn't even realize what she was doing when she brought you in. She had no idea you'd rip her empire right out from under her the first chance you got. But you will, and it's going to be beautiful._

"She tried to scream while he was taking her," she said at last, letting her eyes slowly return to focus on her patiently waiting audience. "That's why he didn't kill her. He didn't want her dead, just to shut up...so he could use her. Hope is a girl, who always used everyone else. Whoever did it, he broke her. It was probably the first time in her life that when she demanded something, she got smacked around. God she must've been close to psychotic, but if she won't give him up, that means she probably...liked it..." It was apparent by the way her excitement increased that she was piecing together the puzzle as she spoke, talking herself through it, as well as all who were listening. At the end, at the unexpected admission that there was a possibility that Hope was partially lost in dreamland in some hospital because she'd had a mental breakdown AND because she was subconsciously protecting her attacker, Jack's voice suddenly trailed off...

_That can't possibly be true, could it? She nearly died..._

_She was a sick girl. Maybe even sicker than you..._

"But, why would she have liked it?" asked a girl named Amy. From the slight waver in her voice Jack could tell she was one of the more innocent members of the group.

Jack merely shrugged. "Some people like the abuse." She simply left it at that as she purposefully unwrapped her breakfast sandwich, hesitating momentarily before she took a nice big bite of its sausage, egg, and cheesy goodness.

Her eyes almost rolled back into her head with pleasure.

_Speaking of liking the abuse. How much are you definitely enjoying that meat and cholesterol biscuit, Jack?_

_Mmm, meat and cholesterol..._

_Now if only I had a margarita to wash it down with..._


	29. Let's Get Nuts

AN: Hopefully this works this time. I exported ch 28 and tried to save myself an upload by copying and pasting. Unfortunately the file didn't save correctly and I ended up reposting ch 28. Gotta hate that. Well, here it is, the REAL ch 29. And by the way,thanks to you guys who let me know that I screwed up, lol. Twas much appreciated.

* * *

Surprise number two wasn't truly a surprise at all. Dom HAD said he'd see her on Monday. She just hadn't fully expected him to follow through on the words. After all, she'd been under the assumption that he'd only said them to impress upon Riddick and Shella that he _would_ be around.

Then again, she hadn't expected to find a rose in her locker from him after lunch, either, but it had her grinning the rest of the afternoon all the same.

That boy was just chock _full_ of surprises.

He fell in step beside her while she was walking out of the building after school, casually handing her a flier for the upcoming homecoming dance that weekend.

"What's this?" she asked, furrowing her brow a bit as she read the neon pink sheet. They'd been posted all over the school for weeks, but in her recent haze she'd somehow managed to overlook them until that moment in time.

Conte smirked. "Thought I'd make sure you were aware that there's a dance this weekend."

Jack shrugged, crumpling the sheet up into a ball and tossing it over her shoulder. "Yeah, what about it? You know I've already got a date planned for this weekend," she said, smiling a bit as she snaked one arm around his, just above the elbow, and hugged his bicep as they walked toward the bus stop.

Her large green eyes staring up at him so complacently made him smile too, his slow gait taking on a bit of a swagger almost of its own accord. Having such a beautiful girl on his arm felt pretty damn good, as a matter of fact. "Tell me something, Jack," he began as they approached the place where the city bus would pick her up and take her to her neighborhood. "That woman the other night, that was Shella, right?"

"Don't really wanna talk about her right now, Dominic," Jack said playfully, mirth just below the surface of her pleasant tone.

Conte's grin turned wicked. "Oh, I think you'll want to talk about this, baby doll. Cause I'm just sure that I've seen that girl before while I was working. She was with a man a little older than her, like Rick. But the guy she was with definitely wasn't Mr. Costello. I don't suppose you'd know anything about that, would you?"

Jack's brow furrowed slightly. "No, I don't know anything about that. And I'm sure Rick doesn't either. I can't imagine he'd let that slide. Then again, at this point, anything's possible. But if I can, I'm going to find out exactly what's going on. I'll use anything I can get against her."

Dom chuckled. "I know, that's why I wanted to make sure I told you..."

Jack quickly cut him off. "I've been thinking, about our plan. Are you sure that you want to do your part of it? Cause if you don't..."

"Jack, don't worry about it. You do your part, and I'll do my part. I have done worse, you know. Way worse," he said, smiling suggestively as he winked at her.

Jack smacked him playfully. "Stop it, you're making me jealous! I might just call it off cause I don't want to share you with her, for any length of time! It's bad enough she practically has Riddick all to herself..."

Conte tweaked her nose, wondering if and when she'd realize her slight slip of tongue, and wonder why he hadn't said anything about it...Ah well, just another piece of the growing puzzle that she would have to fit together on her own. She was a smart girl. He had confidence she could do it. The only question would be, could she do it in time?

Her bus was approaching from down the street and he paused to slowly disentangle himself from her. "Don't worry, babe. After this weekend you'll have him back all to yourself. Then all you'll have to worry about is keeping him. I'm the one who should be jealous, really. Knowing how much you like the guy, I'll probably have to share you with him all the time."

Jack grinned up at him wolfishly. "I like that, you being jealous of Rick. Makes me feel..."

"Like your bus is about to leave without you?" Dom deadpanned before she could finish her sentence.

Her smile turned from wolfish to a bit sheepish. "Yeah, that too. Talk to you later, Domy. And thanks for the flower," she added quickly, going up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before practically bouncing over to the bus and jumping onboard.

By the time she took her seat and looked for him out the window, he was long gone.

* * *

Overall, Jack was feeling pretty dang good when she got back to Riddick's. But all her good feelings bottomed out upon noticing Shella's car was parked in the driveway. Old Horny was home early from work. 

How, interesting...

Slipping soundlessly into the house, Jack was hoping to make it to her room without alerting the old bag to her presence. However, with one foot on the bottom stair, she heard the most unexpected thing. From the kitchen Shella was practically shouting at...someone. And while over the past several weeks Jack had taken that to be a fairly normal practice in Riddick's homely pit of dysfunction, hearing Shella shouting while Rick wasn't around to hear it wasn't exactly typical. As far as Jack knew, anyway...

Jack pulled off her shoes, tying the laces together and stringing them around her neck as she went into full stealth mode, silently approaching the rampaging woman in the kitchen. With her back pressed against the wall just outside the room in question, Jack did what she did best. She stood still, waited, and listened.

And what she heard, was quite interesting indeed.

"I don't care what you have to do, Michael! I've had it up to here with the little tramp! She monopolizes all of Riddick's time, and he's been acting so weird ever since she came back. Weird how? Weird like how he acted when we first started dating weird! I don't want him going back to the way he used to be, and I know you sure as hell don't either. Cause you know that if he does he'll clam up again and you'll never get your precious information."

A long pause during which Shella fumed, yet seemed to be listening to whoever was on the other end of the line. Jack held her breath, as even it seemed far too loud in the sudden silence.

"Of course this is all about me, stupid! I know we can't talk about this on the phone! I want one of your guys to come pick me up, now! Just do it!"

Another pause, shorter this time.

"Alright, fine. Fine! I'll drive over myself. I'll be there at five. I know how to make sure no one's following me, you drilled that into my head enough times. Prick."

Jack heard the woman throw the phone back into its cradle, probably nearly breaking the damn thing. Only when she began wordlessly screaming her frustration did Jack decide that perhaps it was time to go. Go and plan how exactly she was going to figure out where it was Shella thought she was going.

It wasn't until she turned to escape to the safety of the stairway, and eventually her bedroom, that she noticed Pooky sitting just a few short feet away, staring at her hungrily while very conveniently blocking her path.

Unperturbed, Jack slowly revealed the knife she'd resolved to carry on her at all times while she wasn't in school, and used the tip to point directly at the evil toy poodle. "Don't make me get shiv happy on your ass," she threatened low in her throat, trying to keep the same subtly frightening tones that Riddick used to pull off so well.

From the very beginning of their standoff, Jack knew the day had come. The day that she and Shella's prized pet would face-off, get square, rumble in da Bronx. They would go at it head to head, day and night until it was finished. Whenever and wherever it was going to take them, it started right that moment, right at that instant in time.

Jack instinctively fell into a fighter's crouch, at the ready for any sudden attack, her blade poised to send fur flying. She extended her free hand, mocking her opponent by beckoning her to strike. Jack's eyes narrowed slightly as she did the one thing that only the extremely unbalanced or the incredibly over motivated ever did.

She egged on the dog.

"You wanna get nuts, Pooky?" she asked, her voice still hushed, yet forceful. A gleam of impending victory was already shining bright in her jade eyes. "Well, do ya? Come on, bitch! Let's get nuts!"


	30. Basketball and Camping

* * *

Just when Jack was all ready to dig deep, take it to the little mutt in a real scrap, get rough...Pooky stood up and trotted past her, rushing toward the sound of dog food being poured into a metal dish in the kitchen and leaving the girl standing out in the entryway, confused, yet glad to have not been discovered eavesdropping on her enemy.

Jack straightened up from her fighting stance, scratching her head a bit. "Damn, that was a lot easier than I thought it would be."

She was temped to throw a few insults at the dog's retreating hindquarters. A 'sure, go ahead and run', maybe a nasty comment or two about Pooky's mother being a real bitch. That sort of thing.

But she held her tongue, knowing, after all, that her fight with Pooky was far from over.

In the near future, she decided the best course of action would be to simply scurry away while she had the chance, and hide in her room, pretending that she'd never been in near enough proximity to kitchen to have witnessed the conversation at all. The side of it she'd been able to hear, anyway.

After that, it was a simple matter of sneaking down the steps at the correct moment in time while Shella was putting the dog out the back door. Once she'd managed to secret agent herself out the front door, down the drive, and had hidden in the back seat of Shella's small SUV, Jack completely covered herself with a blanket that she'd nicked from the linen closet. It was her hope that it would be enough to successfully hide her from the view of a casual onlooker.

Or an extremely pissed off ex-stripper...

It seemed like she was waiting almost forever in the uncomfortably warm vehicle before Shella _finally_ came out of the house and got in the driver's seat, whisking them off to wherever it was they were going. Jack didn't even attempt to try to keep track of how many turns they made, or in what direction they were heading, figuring it would be pointless with Shella driving all over town trying make sure no one was tailing her. What amazed Jack the most was that she didn't get pulled over for reckless driving, considering some of the stunts she pulled while behind the wheel.

Jack could _so_ tell that Old Horny was a master of being sneaky.

When they arrived, and Shella had been out of the vehicle for more than a few minutes, Jack took a chance on sitting up and looking out the window in an attempt to figure out where the hell they were.

It was an old, rundown neighborhood on a bad side of down. The houses looked like they were all but falling in on themselves and there were no yards to speak of. As the sun began to lower in the sky the kids playing ball in the street were called in by their mothers and ordered to stay indoors.

This would not be a nice place to be in the middle of the night, Jack reasoned.

Shella was walking up to one of the houses in question, having parked half a block down from it. If she was trying to be indiscrete, it wasn't working. In her professional looking skirt and blouse she stuck out of this old, rotting, place like a sore thumb. But the man who met her at the door and let her inside, in his ragged clothes and with an obvious five-o'clock shadow, fit right in. As did the two thirty-plus year old guys sitting on the front porch, rocking gently and shooting the breeze. Only their eyes gave them away. They were looking around, casually, but nevertheless were looking around at _everything_. They almost struck her as being...guards.

And why wouldn't they be? Shella _had_ made sure no one tailed her to this place. But why?

_There's another player involved, Jack. You should've figured that out by now, stupid! How else would she have been able to afford the Seka? But why is she here now? To restock? _

_To get you killed, kiddo. Those guys at the door, they're sloppy, but they're definitely out there for a reason. There's something or someone big in that house. And they might just be big enough to make you disappear if you aren't careful..._

Quickly, she took down the house number and the street name on the pad of paper she'd brought along, then hid back under her blanket, waiting for her ride to take her back home. Questions upon questions were zooming through her mind at the speed of light.

Seeing Riddick that night was hard. They'd become almost friendly over the past several weeks, and as comfortable as she'd become just being in his presence without Shella around to interfere, it was all Jack could do that night not to tell him about everything from the Seka to Shella's mysterious meeting across town.

When he got home after work he was restless, pacing between rooms like crazy until his dear girlfriend couldn't stand it anymore and ordered him out of the house. He called Jack down from her room, inviting her to go play basketball with him over at the rec center for an hour or two as a break from her studies.

All of ten seconds later she was shoving him out the door, bouncing along side him as they walked down the drive to his car.

Dom had said this might happen. That some of Riddick's old energy would begin to resurface should his dosage of the semi-sedative mind control drug be reduced. The fact that Rick was responding well, turning less complacent already, had Jack nearly walking on cloud nine, in spite of the fact that there very likely had been a hit ordered on her that afternoon by Ricky's girlfriend.

And getting him all to herself while they played basketball, pool, and Ping-Pong? It was awesome. So of course she almost felt a little guilty upon realizing how much she missed the near-constant trash talk they used to engage in during such activities. Shouldn't it have been enough just to have him to herself for a while? Sometimes she'd look at him when she thought he wouldn't notice and sigh, not quite able to help being impatient with his slow recovery. She wanted _her_Riddick back NOW.

All she could really do by then was hope that her weekend plans went _according_ to plan. And speaking of which, the correct time and place to mention said plans away from Shella's prying ears, came while the two of them were on their way back to the house. It had been relatively quiet in the car up until that point, music playing softly in the background, until Jack reached over and turned off the radio.

She rearranged herself sideways in her seat so she could look at him intently, forgoing a deep, calming, breath that might tip him off to her slight deception. She wasn't sure how good he still was at being able to tell when she was lying, or even telling half truths, but that that point she wasn't taking any chances. She had to be bold, collected. One drawback to Riddick coming back and replacing Rick was that she could never be exactly sure how much of Rick was still left to play the fool. "Hey, um, Riddick. There's this thing my class is doing this weekend, sort of a senior parent-child camping trip on Friday and Saturday night. I was wondering if we could go?"

He was silent for a long moment, another former trademark. More deep thought, more reflection was required before speaking when you'd spent most of your life as a convict. "Ah, I don't know, Jack. Camping's really not my thing..." he replied at last, and she could tell that it was going to take some work to convince him.

However, she did just about burst out laughing at his comment. Camping, not Riddick's thing? Of course he was _SO_ used to having a soft bed to sleep in and three squares a day...Jack just wasn't sure he'd be able to survive without them...

_Damn, maybe ya should've left him on the stuff for a while longer, Jack. At this rate he'll still be half-whipped AND he'll torpedo your plans._

"Ah, come on, Riddick. Where's your sense of adventure? You're always telling me I need to get out more, and here's my chance. Besides, I want you to meet my friends and their parents. I asked Imam if he'd be able to come if I paid for his transport, but he's got some holy man retreat this weekend and I _need_ a parent so I can go and not be the only one there without one," she half-whined, playfully squeezing his bicep with both hands as she begged.

She was on the edge of smiling, partially because now that she had him away from home he was acting far more like his ex-con self, and partially because she was getting to compare the feel of his bicep to her experiences with Dom's bicep, and finding that at the moment she would've been hard pressed to decide which one she liked better.

Rick pretended to groan a little, a slight smirk playing across his full lips. "Do I have to?" he asked, almost mocking her mock-whining tone.

Jack broke out in a grin, knowing she'd won. "Yup, you gotta! I'm pretty sure it's included in the fine print of the unwritten paperwork for being 'Jack's legal guardian'," she informed him, doing air quotes with both hands upon referring to him as her legal guardian.

Riddick rolled his eyes. "Fine. We'll go. But I'm NOT going as your father. And we are NOT sleeping in a tent. We're going to stay in a hotel somewhere close by."

Jack suddenly took on a confused, serious look. "Why don't you want to go as my dad? Don't you think you could handle me calling you daddy?" she asked slyly.

That one came dangerously close to flying over Riddick's head, and considering the slightly sexual connotations Jack had jokingly spun on it, for the most part it sailed right on over.

"Oh come on, Jack. I'm only like, what? Ten years older than you? No one's going to buy that I'm your dad." He sounded like he was becoming ever so slightly ad

"What, you don't think that you're young and good looking anymore do you, Riddick? I mean, come on, you've got to be in your late twenties, if not your early thirties. That's one foot in the grave, man," she teased mercilessly, hardly able to stop herself from cracking up.

They pulled up into the driveway, and Jack's laughter suddenly ceased.

_Oh yea, we're home...and just when I was having so much fun..._

As Rick was getting out of the car he turned to her. "You can say I'm your brother at the campout, but I'm not going as your dad. I don't look that old, and last I checked, I don't act that old either, Jack." She wasn't quite sure if he was teasing her or not, so she didn't laugh.

Not that she would've been laughing _with_ him anyway, if she had...

"Coulda fooled me, _Dick_," she commented snidely a good five seconds after he'd closed the door and started toward the house, leaving her sitting alone in the car to talk to herself.


	31. Stroll in the Moonlight

* * *

The final surprise of that fateful Monday was a message on Jack's computer from Imam. She'd sent a message of her own only the day before, and hadn't expected him to respond so soon. She almost cried, reading it. He'd included all the normal sentiments about missing her, being proud of her for settling in, making friends, putting up with Shella, putting up with Riddick...

With her first real tears of true homesickness running down her cheeks Jack wrote back to him that she liked being with Riddick well enough, but she missed him a great deal. She didn't tell him about her plan, not wanting to put him in danger in case Shella really did have some powerful ally holed up on the bad side of down, but she did ask him to scan the weekly apartment adds for her and try to find a place close to the center where he was living. She said that Riddick was tired of his job and his life on Nehca Prime, and was considering moving back to New Mecca with her at the end of the semester, at least for a while...

She hoped that when all was said and done, she'd be right about that much at least. That Riddick would have a clear enough head to choose the life he wanted without someone telling him what that life was.

At the end of the day she laid down with her teddy bear, Lee. Cried a few more silent tears for Imam and Riddick, her only family, and then at last, slipped into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

After having been caged for so long he wanted, needed to participate in some form of blood sport. But in the end, he had to refrain, for the time being at least. Had a meeting to attend that night. A meeting with the _boss_.

He didn't know if he should curse himself or just let loose over that one. Nevertheless, he allowed the Viper king the honor of his presence. It was payday, after all.

At least the kid was smart. Didn't give him shit about being late, didn't act like a big tough guy trying to prove to his crew that he was worthy of being their leader. He was pissed all right, but unlike any of the members of the Flames, Kendal Siems was controlled. And he didn't tolerate lapses in that control within himself or among his followers. That was the way it had to be for the Vipers. They weren't rich, they had no influence over law enforcement or anyone else for that matter... All they had was their gang and their own self control. That was why the demon had chosen them after days of watching every move they made.

After all, he had to be sure that if he took the job, had a kid for a boss, he wouldn't be sucked under if the shit really hit the fan.

_More likely that every Flame and Viper in town would end up dead._

Wasn't that a fact.

He'd been the one to request a dark meeting place on the fringes of Viper turf, so he could approach from the direction of his choosing without early detection. Siems had agreed, too pleased to have gained the services of a master to turn down any demand or request. He was gracious, humble for his age. But there was no way in hell he was going to let what had happened that weekend slide.

"I need to talk to you, alone." Was all the kid said after handing over the bundle of money owed.

He was soon granted his audience, fading with the monster into the blackness of a nearby alleyway. They were nearly a hundred feet from the rest of the gang before he began saying his piece. "Listen, I appreciate everything you've done for me up until now. But I need to know why Connell and his ex aren't dead yet. We tipped you off about the party, it should've been easy pickings."

"Connell was never alone," the demon rumbled in response, almost offhandedly. It wasn't like he needed to defend himself or his timing. His reputation spoke for itself.

Kendal shrugged. "Yeah, all right, he was never alone. What about Anderson? Couldn't you have managed to knock her off at least?"

The monster Siems couldn't quite make out walking beside him shifted, his gait changing slightly. There was a rustling of clothes and then the striking of a match. When the flame rose to light a cigarette the Viper leader caught a glimpse of the two black pools that served as eyes for 'The Devil', as he called himself, and a short look at the face of a true killer. The thought haunted him, especially as he realized how angelic and young the monster appeared when darkness didn't serve as his hooded cloak. Then, almost as if it had never shone so brightly at all, the light was gone, and the two of them fell back into darkness.

"Seems to me," the demon began. "That Hope Anderson got what was coming to her."

"So you're saying that whoever raped the shit out of her got to her before you could kill her?"

"Whatever you say, boss," he replied instantly, almost mockingly, but without feeling. His voice could be so cold it almost chilled _him_ to the bone sometimes.

And it was the truth, technically. The only detail lost was that he'd had all the chances in the world to do the little harlot. But as he'd bided his time, and bided, and bided—it had turned out that killing just wasn't in the cards that particular evening. And then, then some_thing_ else had gotten to her first...

He really could help but laugh at that bit.

Kendal sighed. "I know better than to push you, but compared to how much it means to me that Connell and Anderson turn up dead, the rest were worth nothing. Connell is the one who messed around chasing my kid sis while he was dating Hope. And being the jealous whore she is, Anderson was the one who ordered her groupies in the Flames to run my sister down in the streets and try to kill her. Riley's in a coma now, she's a vegetable, and she ain' never gonna get better. My parents split up over trying to cover the medical bills, kicked me out of the house for trying to help by selling drugs. We ain' rich enough to take care of her the way she needs to be, like the fucking Flames and their families. Don' mean nothin' to you, but Ri was only fourteen. She was innocent, and those fuckers did worse than kill her. I want Hope dead because she ordered the hit, and I want Connell dead because that pussy knew about it and he wasn't man enough to fucking stop her!"

"I think you want them dead because you're afraid of what'll happen among your ranks if you don't strike back at them," the monster rumbled, not touched at all by the gang leader's desperate story.

"You ain' bein' paid t' think," Siems shot back, dangerously close to losing his famed control.

Taking a slow drag on his cigg, the monster shrugged in the darkness. "Fair enough. Just keep in mind this one important bit, kid. I'm not one of your fucking members. This job ain't even my primary objective on this dirtball of a planet. It's just a thing on the side, a way to make a little cash. You know, get paid to do what I enjoy doing most. And I do _enjoy_ it, don't ever forget that part. For now, we're square. I did some work, you've paid me accordingly. It won't be long before I'm going to blast off of this heap and never look back the rest of my days, understand? If it makes you sleep any better, word on the street is that Hope got her voice box and her sanity crushed this weekend. From what I've heard, she's just as much of a vegetable as your sister. She reaped what she sowed, justice served."

Siems stopped walking, but his dark companion never ceased his slow swagger toward the street ahead, not pausing a second to look back at him.

"And what about Connell? Are you going to do him before you leave, or do I need to start looking for someone else?" Kendal shouted after him, almost in challenge.

A dark, almost evil laugh echoed eerily all around him, bouncing back and forth between the walls of the narrow alley as it seemed to smother him from all sides.

"Don't worry so much, kid. I'll kill Connell for free."


	32. Flame and Dagger

AN: Sorry for the delays lately. Been kind of busy with school and stuff. Hopefully a longer chapter this time will make up for it a little bit. -grin-

* * *

"So, your dad owns this whole yard, huh?" Jack half-questioned, half-stated, craning her neck to look at multitudes of spacecraft. She really couldn't believe how big the ship yard was. Or how lost one could get walking through it...

The girl from school who was escorting her merely shrugged. "He owns the yard and a third of the port. He's got two business partners, but one of them is his sister, and she pretty much leaves all the business aspects to him...They inherited it, from my grandpa or something, I guess..." she replied shyly, shoving her hands deeper into the pockets of her jeans.

Jack nodded, blinking as if to clear something unbelievable from her line of sight. "Wow, that's really something. And you work here?"

Amy shrugged. "Yeah, I do a lot of the boring office work. Filing, that sort of thing. It's all right."

Jack had quickly found such downplaying was typical of the shy girl. She was quiet, modest. Not really a super fit for Hope's little club personality wise, but too rich and too pretty to be left out of it. Jack had quickly taken a liking to the girl in the short time she'd spent getting to know her.

She was especially fond of the quiet and modest part...

"So, are any of these ships looking familiar?" Amy asked at last, after several more minutes of ongoing silence.

Jack grinned sheepishly. "Well, I'm not really sure. How many more are left on the list?"

Amy pulled the list out of her back pocket and unfolded it. "Five more singly occupied ships in this quarter of the yard. The next one is just up ahead. Right there," she said, pointing out the small hopper sitting on lot D-81.

The two girls stopped in front of it, looking up at a ship that looked exactly like three of its neighbors. The only difference being the model and serial numbers on the sides.

"What name is it registered under?" Jack asked, and Amy looked down at her list.

"Um, Dominic Kaze."

"Kaze with a 'C'?"

"Kaze with a 'K'."

"Okay. This is probably it. Now all we have to do is find the doorbell," Jack said, for the most part confident in the truth of her words.

Amy smiled just a little as she stepped forward and raised one hand to press the call button. "If you're sure?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at Jack and once she had the dark haired girl's reassurance, she pressed the button.

A moment or two later the ramp slowly engaged, hissing as it dropped down in front of them and settling into the ground. Dom was standing inside next to the interior opener switch, leaning against the wall without a shirt on and looking cocky as hell. Jack felt a slight flutter in her chest. They'd only been apart one day and she'd missed him...

A slight smile touched her lips. "I found you," she taunted playfully.

Conte merely whistled in response. "Damn, I'm really starting to like this planet. Two gorgeous women come to my ship just to see me? I thought that sort of thing wouldn't happen until I got to heaven...if I ever get there," he teased flirtatiously, flashing them his most charming smile.

Both girls laughed easily. Jack couldn't help wondering how a guy who'd probably spent the majority of his life on the run had gotten so good with people. And how she'd managed to end up so bad with them.

They had business to attend to, but Jack wasn't sure how exactly she was going to keep her mind on it as long as Dom wasn't wearing a shirt. After a moment or two of silence that was, for the most part, due to her and Amy not being able to tear their eyes away from the half-dressed badass hottie on display before them, Conte finally seemed to get over his enjoyment of being gawked at and, chuckling, excused himself to go 'put on something more comfortable, wink, wink'.

Jack caught Amy looking at her with a goofy grin on her face, one that probably perfectly mirrored her own. "You never said the guy you were looking for was hott!" the blonde accused mildly, keeping her voice down so it wouldn't carry inside the ship.

Jack merely shrugged. "If I'd said he was good looking when I was asking around to see who'd know how to find him, don't you think all the other girls we eat lunch with would be here now too?"

Amy nodded, shrugging a bit with a friendly smirk. "That might be posssiblllyy... But anyway, as much as I'd love to stand around and stare at _him_ some more, it's getting late, and I have to finish up a few things in the office before it closes. If I don't, my dad just might kill me. So, I'll see you at lunch tomorrow?"

Jack smiled. "Definitely. And thanks, Amy. For helping me out."

Amy smiled back as she turned to go. "No problem, that's what friends are for..."

Jack stared at the retreating back of the girl she'd known for such a short time, just that afternoon, really.

_You have friends now, Jackie. Try not to act so surprised. They might catch on that you've never had any before._

She smirked at that, and at the thought that she was now very much alone with one of her favorite new 'friends'. And last she'd checked, he wasn't wearing a shirt. Maybe if she hurried, she'd catch him before he put one on again.

Jack couldn't help but grin a little as she approached Conte from behind. He was standing in his living/bedroom, apparently searching through a large pile of clothes on the floor for a shirt to wear. The place seemed messier than she remembered it being, but then again, she'd been pretty out of it at the time. Hadn't noticed a lot of things, apparently. Like the wide assortment of tattoos and markings that covered the upper portion of Dom's left arm, spilling onto his shoulder blade and nearly half way down his back on one side in a mismatched mural of pictures and emblems.

"Wow, that's really cool," she started, softly touching the classic jolly roger drawn so beautifully just below his shoulder blade. It was the mark of a true rogue, a member of the Pirate's Guild.

Conte stiffened roughly under her touch and she pulled her hand back, slightly bewildered. What had she done wrong? He didn't turn around to look at her, didn't explain, just stood frozen for a brief moment before finally allowing his muscles to relax as he went back to the task at hand, trying to find something clean to wear.

"Sorry," he finally mumbled. "I ain' used to bein' touched there by people who don't mean to hurt me. It's sort of a...reflex, I guess..."

She studied the broad plane of his back a bit more closely, and upon a more extensive examination she could see why he'd reacted as he had. Most of the tattoos, the ones that she didn't recognize as representing a crime guild or as the markings put on kids who went to Juvy Slam, were there to cover up some of the nastiest scars she'd ever seen on any one person.

She wanted to touch them, feel the raised skin where he'd been cut into and caused what must've been some of the most excruciating pain imaginable.

He was studying her over his shoulder with one eye, and the look she gave him when she noticed must've been begging for permission, because he nodded slowly. "Go ahead," he said softly, once again turning to face forward, acting like he was still continuing his search, even though his hands had stilled. He was waiting, waiting to see what she was going to do.

Slowly and softly Jack traced over the raised lines, losing them occasionally in the dim lighting and underneath the dark contours of color meant to hide them. It didn't take her long to discover that they were numbers, almost like a permanent serial number.

"Who did this to you?" she asked at last.

Dom shrugged his heavy shoulders, apparently looking down at the black t-shirt in his hands, the one that he'd finally selected from the pile. "I don't know who they were. Some sort of sick slap-dash med team trapped all the hell the way out at Slammer Nine. They branded me with heated steel...one character at a time. It was my identification number, so that when they found my body, they'd know which prisoner I was. In the numbered slams you don't get to keep your clothes when you're dead. Someone's bound to take them. They don't keep dental records, and even if they did, most guys die with broken jaws, smashed teeth. Sometimes they wouldn't even find bodies though, because we were all kept half starved and some got so desperate they'd eat a corpse. Never really slept while I was in Nine. Kept thinking that I might end up a meal for somebody.

"No wonder I went crazy in there..." he said, softly, almost to himself, his large hands clenching into cotton subconsciously while he stared straight ahead.

If she'd been able to see his eyes, she would've known that at that moment he wasn't standing in the same room with her. In his mind, he was back in Slam. Back at a time when any second could turn into a fight to stay alive.

Jack slowly slipped her arms around his chest, hoping she wouldn't startle him as she hugged him from behind. "Anyone would've gone crazy in a place like that. I know I would've," she assured him, hoping her words served as comfort and wouldn't come as an annoyance. Jack was incredibly aware that she had no idea what Dom had been through, she'd never had to go through anything so horrible. No wonder Riddick had survived so well on T2. Slam was just like that planet, only the beasts hunting you in prison were even more intelligent and more deadly than the hammerheads.

And there was no light to help keep them at bay.

Conte turned slightly in her embrace, and Jack reluctantly released him, seeing his left shoulder just before he had the chance to pull on a shirt and cover it up. Unlike the mishmash of tattoos on his backside, the scene on Dom's shoulder was all the same piece, and it was by far the most beautiful thing Jack had ever seen in ink. An old fashioned dagger was perfectly shrouded with a blood red ribbon, and around the fringes burned a black flame so realistic, she could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin.

He paused, noticing her staring with wide eyes at the picture, and at last he smiled just a bit. "If I'd known you'd stare at me like I was a piece of steak, I would've let you see that one a long time ago, Jack," he teased mildly, flexing his arm a bit to further improve her viewing pleasure.

"That's _soo_ sweet!" she said, completely enamored, almost in awe of the work of art. "Where'd you get it?"

He chuckled, at last pulling his tee over his head and covering all she'd just been staring at so intently. "Actually, you only get that one if you become part of this _really_ exclusive club," he informed her, quickly covering up the dark mood he'd so briefly drifted into with his regular sarcastic humor.

"Like what?" she asked, still staring at the spot almost dreamily, as though she could still see his arm through his sleeve, lost in thoughts of how that tattoo would look on her lower back...

Dom walked over and plopped down on his couch, effectively ending her short reverie. "If I told ya that, I'd probably have to kill ya," he said, snickering to himself, stretching out his arms along the couch's back as he reclined slightly, casually crossing his legs at the ankle as he propped his boots up on a nearby coffee table.

"So," he continued after a moment of letting her collect her thoughts. "Was there some reason why you tracked me down today, Jackie, or did you just miss me that bad?"

Jack quickly snapped out of her daydreams, at last focusing on the task at hand. Funny how hard it was getting to focus on _anything_ that wasn't Dom while she was with him... "Oh yeah," she said, sobering more than a little. "I came here cause there was something about Shella I found out last night, and I need you to help me figure out what it is... Or rather, who it is..."

His smirk turned a bit more self satisfying as he looked at her, his eyes glinting as he grinned like a shark. "Well, in that case, baby, you've _definitely_ come to the right place..."


	33. Mercs and Convicts

* * *

Conte had wanted to wait until well after dark to check out the house Jack had seen Shella enter the day before. Jack had been a bit nervous about that idea at first, but seeing as none of the rough looking kids roaming the streets after the sun went down acted like they wanted to bother her while she was with Dom, it seemed to work out just fine after all.

After about ten minutes of looking at the darkened house across the street through a set of binoculars, Dom gave up, sitting down next to her on the ground behind the large bushes they were using to hide their observational activities.

"There's no one there now, either that or they're all asleep already," he said, looking at the chrono on his wrist. "And seeing that it's only seven in the evening, I'm thinking they just aren't there."

Jack yawned, almost cracking her jaw with the force of it. "Great, that means we can sneak in and take a look around, right?"

Dom snickered lightly. "How bout not? There is this thing that some people do when they're trying to figure stuff like this out. It's called a stakeout."

With another yawn Jack nodded. "Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. Stakeout. Whatever you say..."

Laughing, Dom slowly levered himself to his feet. "Okay, little miss school girl, that's it. I'm takin' you home before you fall asleep on me."

"What?" she asked as he grabbed her by the hands, dragging her to her feet. "But we just got here!"

"Don't worry," he reassured her playfully, pulling her under one arm. "I'll come back and watch for a while after I get you back to your house. Besides, we don't want Mr. Costello's old bag of a girlfriend _suspecting_ you now, do we? Wondering why you aren't home on a school night?"

Jack pretended to pout just a little. It was supposed to be _her_ mission, and there wasn't much she hated more than handing over the controls. "Do I have to?" she begged, laughing suddenly because she reminded herself of Rick trying to get out of their 'camping trip'.

Dom pretended to think about it for a second as they came out from behind the bushes they'd been hiding behind in the wreck of what had once been a small neighborhood park. The two of them started walking down the block together toward the outskirts of the older and more rundown section of the city's downtown area. They passed broken swings and an old metal slide as they went.

"Hmm, yeah, you have to," he decided at last.

Jack tried to muffle a giggle against his side. Squeezing the back and front of his shirt in her fists as she half-mauled his torso, pulling him into a tighter embrace as they walked. She loved the feel of his muscular frame under her hands. Everything from the way his chest was completely filled out to his thick, toned belly caught her attention and held it, ensnaring parts of her that she had at one time thought only Riddick would ever be able to rouse. "Seriously, this can't be healthy, Dom. I just can't get enough of you," she said, her voice muffled against his soft shirt.

He laughed, full and deep. "You can't get enough of me? Well, damn, Jack, maybe I can't get enough of you either."

He was just playing along, and she knew that a little bit. Suddenly feeling very awake, and very vibrant, she disentangled herself from him and smacked him on the ass of his jeans before taking off running. "Tag, you're it!" she yelled back at him, a huge grin plastered on her face. "You want me, come get me!"

She wasn't entirely sure if he knew how to play tag. Some people didn't, hadn't grown up with anyone who had... But if nothing else, a predator would instinctively know how to react to a simple game of 'chase'. And at the very least she was sure a bad boy like him would understand the concept behind cops and robbers.

Jack wasn't disappointed, Conte grinned right back at her and slowly loped after her. He was maintaining an easy jog, but his long strides ate up ground fast, and forced her to increase her speed to stay ahead of him.

She ducked left, ran right. Went through all sorts of twists and turns, never realizing that she'd made her way into the back allies of town, and that they were going in circles. If nothing else, she should've been aware of her surroundings, the fact that they were growing worse and worse. But she was too preoccupied by her pursuer to take much notice. After all, she wasn't really trying to lose him, just make him work to catch her...to catch her and do _what_ to her exactly?

That much she hadn't decided yet.

It was exhilarating, to play like that with someone. It had been so long, since the times when she and Riddick had played 'Johns and Con-X' while they were supposed to be getting food for Imam from the marketplace. Theirs had been a rather personalized version of mercs and convicts. Oddly enough Jack had always been the one who'd played Riddick, and Riddick had always relented to her demand that he be Johns. Before her hair had gotten too long she'd still worn a pair of dark goggles while at play, imitating him, going all-out to fit the part she was role playing. She'd even subtly sniff the air from time to time, like Riddick did, and pretend to be gathering information with heightened senses that would be critical to her survival. And of course, she _always_ won their little games.

Copycat had been her second favorite diversion back then, especially at the breakfast table when Rick was just getting home from the night shift at the club, and she was just about to leave for school. Often he was too tired to realize that she while she sat next to him she was imitating every move he made, from pouring his cereal to 'adjusting himself'. Often her antics would force Imam to try to smother random bursts of laughter, and all the while Riddick would play dumb, looking between the two of them as if he had no idea what was going on, no clue as to why they were both laughing until they cried. That was the best part, how he'd always managed to keep a straight face no matter how funny something was.

How she missed those days...

Back in the present, while still attempting to avoid her new chaser, her new best friend, Jack finally turned to look where she was running. She'd come to a better lit area, a juncture between two connecting alleyways, only to find that she was suddenly almost face-to-face with the two men she'd so easily spotted as guards while they were sitting front portch of the house Shella had led her to the previous afternoon.

Both of them, in their surprise, had quickly scrambled to pull out guns that had been concealed among their street clothes, and standing only a handful of steps away from her with fierce expressions on their faces, they were now pointing those guns in her direction. Straight at her head, to be more specific.

It was an incredibly belittling sensation that traveled up Jack's spine, attempting to smother her before she was able to shove it back down again and bury it deep, only able to do so because long months of experiences similiar to these had taught her to do it automatically while she'd been on the run.

_Not a great time to panick, Jackie. So do yourself a favor and DON'T._

Conte finally turned the corner, just barely managing to halt before he collided with her, his laughter suddenly fading into the darkness as he instinctively grabbed her shoulders.

All of a sudden Jack was getting a feeling like the two of them were in deep, deep trouble, as she slowly raised her hands above her head in surrender.


	34. The Big Bang

AN: Sorry it's been so long, but I've been _way_ busy with my classes. The good news is that round one of mid-terms are over, but round two starts next week. Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long...hopefully...

_

* * *

Jack B. Badd sat on a wall  
Jack B. Badd had a great fall  
And all the King's horses, and all the King's men  
Could never put Jack back together again  
Life's a real bitch, and that ain't no lie... _

"What is this?" asked another man, one who was standing in the background of the scene from Jack's perspective.

"Looks like just a couple of kids," one of the guards replied, but neither of them showed any signs of lowering their weapons.

"Yeah, just a couple kids," Dom repeated from behind her, his voice airy, perhaps even fear laced as he squeezed her shoulders tight and pulled her back against him. He was slowly inching the two of them away from the two men, back the way they'd came.

Jack's hands were still in the air as she stared with her eyes wide. She knew better than to panic, but it had been a while. Rational thoughts were hard to catch a hold of among the flood of emotions and energy running through her entire body. She was so pumped full of adrenaline she was shaking noticeably. Her expression was a slack jawed one.

"Quit moving!" one of the guards snapped, and almost instantly their backward progress ceased.

"I don't like this," the strange man continued, beginning to inch away himself.

It took the addition of that strange voice, another person in doubt, to clear Jack's mind almost completely of her state of near-paralysis. She began to look around, assess the situation. She had to know what she was dealing with if she and Conte were going to make it out of that alley alive.

Why were these guys here? Had they been stalking her all along, waiting for the right moment to ambush her and Dom? What exactly was going on? Why would three men be standing around in a back alley in the evening hours where no one would see them? They'd been nearly as shocked as she'd been when she flew around the corner unexpectedly, so perhaps they hadn't been waiting for her. They didn't even seem to recognize her...

And why the fuck was there a beautiful classic twentieth century navy blue Ford Mustang in this alley with them? Who the hell in this dump of a neighborhood could afford one of those? Not only that, but who had the kind of money it would take to get the gasoline to fuel it so far out in the sticks of the universe?

It had to be a deal...the car was hot and they were making a deal...they were selling the car to...some guy wearing a suit that was _waaay_ too nice for a local to be wearing. That was what was going down. It had taken Jack all of about ten seconds to get it figured out once she put her mind to it, but the question of how the hell they were going to get out of there in one piece still remained unanswered.

One of the guards turned to address the man they were apparently trying to do business with, trying to convince him not to bail prematurely. "No, don't go, man. It took us a long time to get this exchange set up and we're going to go through with it. There isn't a problem here," he said half pleasantly, if with a little too much enthusiasm. "This is just a misunderstanding."

"Yeah, we were just looking for this guy who said he'd sell us some blow," Conte chipped in suddenly, and picking up on the hint Jack nodded slightly in agreement. Better that they think that the two of them were also up to something illegal, less reason to think that they'd go to the cops that way.

The other guard motioned to the two of them with his palm up, turning to look at their buyer. "You see? Besides, do these two look like undercover cops? Just a couple teenaged coke heads out looking for a score."

She felt Dom shrug as he slowly moved to her right, releasing his hold on her shoulders as he took a few careful steps to the side, turning them from one target into two. He never drew any closer to the gunmen, but yet he never stopped moving, circling around them cautiously, his arms spread wide, palms up, in a non-threatening stance.

"Hey, guys, come on. I can see you're trying to do a little honest business back here where big brother can't see ya. I respect that. Spent more than my share of time in juvy slam, and let me tall ya, whoever 'the man' is, I sure hate the fucker just as much as anyone. So, how bout you just let us be on our way?" he asked, trying to sound reasonable and cool.

The guard closest to him shrugged. "I don't know if we can do that, kid. See, we're sort of on this other job that's really important, and if we get recognized by the cops, our boss will kill us for sure."

Dom shrugged, keeping his hands in plain view. "Yeah, okay, I get that much. Hell, who hasn't been there, right?" He was stalling. Jack could see straight through it; but luckily for both of them the guards at least, couldn't. As their attention followed Conte away from her, Jack slowly began to back away again, hoping to fade back into the shadows enough that she'd have a chance to make a break for it.

And hopefully, when she ran, Dom would have an opportunity to make his own break.

Just when she was about to turn and go, Conte pretended to take a slightly closer look at the car that was the object of the thugs' deal, and let a huge grin spread across his face. "Hey, is that a 1967 Ford?" he asked, sounding more than authentically interested.

Jack froze, too curious to see what he was playing at to do anything intelligent, like _running away_.

"1969 Ford Mustang," the buyer corrected, fiddling casually with his gold cufflinks. Almost instantly the words 'rich know-it-all' flashed before Jack's eyes as she finally took serious notice of the man.

Conte, however, seemed pleased to have connected with another twentieth century car expert. He smirked at the man, looking at him with his head tilted to the side. "Fuel injected, turbo charged?" he asked, sounding more than a little caught up on what must've been one of his favorite subjects.

Jack _would've_ huffed at how all guys were the same, the whole lot of them were more impressed by some old carbon dioxide spewing combustion engine than they were with keeping themselves alive. _But,_ she was too relieved to see that the guards were finally lowering their handguns, seeming to become more at ease with a guy who was actually interested in what they were selling to care at the moment. In fact, Conte actually seemed to be putting up a fairly decent sales pitch for them...and so just maybe they were no longer in as much danger as she'd feared...

Jack stood with her hands on her hips while the car's future owner went over just about every inch of the vehicle, including looking under the hood, and all the while her companion followed along like a dog on a leash, wanting to know all sorts of details about the make and model and the extras that had been specially loaded in the stupid thing.

While leaning in the driver's side window, being careful not to leave prints on the finish, Dom looked back at her over his shoulder, grinning like a kid on his birthday. "Holy shit, babe! This thing's got a tape deck in it! A freakin' tape deck! I didn't even know they existed anymore!"

"That's great, hun," she ground out, sounding more than a bit peeved. All she wanted to do was get the hell out of there, but if she ran they'd probably shoot the idiot she was with. Hadn't he been the one who'd mentioned something about being the toughest guy in town?

_Heh, so much for that theory_, Jack thought to herself. Riddick would've definitely had every bad guy standing in that alley very, very dead; and in a fraction of the time.

"All I can say is, that it's one hell of a machine you're buying," Conte finished, still speaking to the man as he slammed the hood of the car shut.

The suit nodded his agreement, smiling like a six year old kid. "It sure is," he agreed before turning to the two guards. "Buff it up and deliver it to my lot tomorrow night at nine. One of my people will meet you there with a check. Deal?"

"Deal," the older of the two men agreed.

The suit nodded to them both, smiling a bit. "Good doing business with you, gentlemen. I would like to stay and chat, but duty calls. You understand," he falsely confided before turning with a great deal of flourish, and walking off down the street. After he'd been walking for half a block or so a car pulled up alongside him and he got in the back, then was driven away out of sight.

"Creepy," Jack intoned.

"Mmhm," Conte agreed readily, having come to stand next to her after reluctantly leaving the side of the vehicle he'd just fallen so madly in love with.

"Come on," he finally said, jerking his head in the direction they'd come, turning to go with Jack following closely in his wake. They got all of three steps in before the two men noticed their attempt to leave.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" the younger one asked, sounding rather threatening all of a sudden.

Jack froze in her tracks, allowing her eyes to slowly shut as she realized that they weren't going to get away so easily.

"Both of you turn around, slowly," the other guard ordered.

Jack turned one way, Dom turned the other, and as soon as she caught his eye she just knew he was going to try something. She hoped that whatever it was, it wouldn't be something stupid.

She slowly raised her hands in the air again, even though there really was no point. She obviously had nothing to defend herself with against the gun that the man on the right was once again pointing at her.

The guard almost smirked. "Oh come on, you didn't seriously think that you'd get away that easily, did you? Like I said, the boss would kill us if we were recognized by the police. So...better not to leave any loose ends. Bang, bang, no loose ends. Nothing personal..." he added, his grip slowly tightening as he prepared to fire at a fear-paralyzed Jack.

The whole thing was beautiful, really. The slightest shift of attention of the gunman, the tiniest lapse, and Conte had pulled a pair of heavy handguns seemingly from thin air, drawing them so fast that not a man alive could've possibly followed the action with the naked eye. Without pause, without hesitation, and before either of the two men could get a shot off Dom leveled the guard threatening Jack with four, precise, rapid shots.

Before the closer guard could recover himself, Conte again made his guns disappear and then engaged him, charging head on and tackling him before he could raise his own gun to fire. The two of them struggled briefly on the ground before the guard managed to hit Dom in the side of the head with the butt of his gun, knocking the dark featured attacker off of him.

Conte rolled to his feet over his shoulder, sitting back on his haunches to consider his enemy, but prepared to strike as fast as a viper at the first sign of that pistol being raised. He _wanted_ the fucker to try something, he _wanted_ a fight. He was a brawler by nature, and it had been a long time since he'd been in a good scrap that really got his blood flowing. There was no rush, no spike in the galaxy that compared to being the victor in a fight to the death. No knives, no guns, just his wits—and everything else God gave him.

There was an extended pause during which the guard tried to catch his breath, watching his opponent with matched intensity. It was clear that he too was determined to survive.

The instant that he attempted to raise his gun Conte became liquid motion. He was smooth, fluid, and never once paused as he launched himself forward in attack. Jack could merely watch in awe as he tore into the man with moves as quick as lightening, easily disarming him in a single pass and flinging the weapon off into the darkness where it most likely wouldn't be found without the aid of sunlight.

Once again the two paused, having switched positions but still only a mere handful of feet apart, watching each other closely like two dogs fighting over a piece of meat. Jack held her breath, wondering which one was going to make the first move.

Like before, the guard attempted to strike first. He charged Dom, apparently prepared to take him down to the ground. However, he made the terrible mistake of leading with his head, and his onrush was met by Conte's fist landing hard in the middle of his face right before the bigger man sidestepped out of the way, spinning quickly and kicking out the back of the guard's knee before he had a chance to get out of range.

The guard fell to the ground in a heap, crumpling as the shock of having his nose shoved up into his brain finally began to sink in, and his body realized it was dying. Jack was torn from her dull stare at the dying man when Dom grabbed her by the hand, dragging her along behind him as he began to run away from that place at last.

"I...I didn't think you were that fast," she blurted out suddenly, mostly out of breath by the time they stopped over a block away from where Conte had just killed two men right before her eyes. He finally let go of her hand and Jack bent over, grabbing at her knees for support as she tried to keep herself from throwing up. After a few deep breaths, she started to regain her composure and continued to think out loud on the same line of thought. "I mean...you're sort of a big guy, so I assumed that you'd be a little slow. But you're not, you're really fuckin' quick, Conte. Hell, I could hardly follow what you were doing and I've been in a million fights..." she panted.

When he didn't respond she looked up at him, only to see that he hadn't been paying attention to her in the slightest. He seemed lost in his own little trance as he stood at the mouth of the alleyway, staring blankly out at the street. Perhaps because he was blatantly ignoring her, she was almost pissed to see the contented smirk on his face. That, 'I'm too cocky to touch' look that she used to think she liked on him. At that moment, it was just too much.

"What the fuck's up with you?" she asked sharply, barely raising her voice above a whisper in case by some chance someone might overhear her.

Conte shrugged, digging into a pocket on his cargos. "That ain't no way to talk to someone who just saved your ass, Jack."

Mostly because she felt the need to cover up the fact that she'd been so frightened when he so obviously hadn't, Jack glared at him. "Some fucking tough guy you are. What was it you said to me? No one would fuck with you because you were the toughest son of a bitch in town? Well you were obviously on your way to proving it, bud. If you had that fast a draw, why the hell didn't you waste the fuckers the first chance you got? You do realize that whoever the hell was those guys' boss is going to be after the two of us now, and so are the police! So next time, please don't hesitate to take out all the witnesses!" she half-yelled, her temper heating up her entire body, and causing her hands to shake as she clenched them into fists.

Dom began to chuckle, finally pulling a cigar out of his pocket and with steady hands took one end in his mouth and lit up. "There's something you need to learn, Jack, and you're fortunate that I'm here to teach it to you. And that something is that actions always speak louder than words. And some actions, speak louder than other actions. Now quit bitching me out, get down on your fucking knees, and cover your head," he demanded calmly, in no mood to joke with her.

"Why should I?" she asked, angrily placing her fists on her hips, pissed as hell that he was asking for what she thought he was asking for.

He shrugged, looking at his chrono. "You wanna stand for this, suit yourself. You'll probably get a better view anyway," he said, being almost cryptic.

He slowly took a drag on his cigar, almost closing his eyes as a peaceful smile touched his lips. When he slowly exhaled, blowing out the sweet-smelling smoke, Jack almost thought she heard him whisper some word in a foreign language. But she couldn't have been sure, considering at that exact moment she was knocked violently off her feet by fiercest and most sudden force she'd ever been hit by in her life. For a second she thought that hell itself had broken through the crust of the earth and was trying to swallow her whole.

There was an extraordinary amount of heat, and the roar and her ears didn't quit even as the world began to slowly re-balance itself some moments later. It seemed like it was some time before she finally sat up and attempted to compute what exactly had just happened, but from Conte's point of view it was only a half a minute or so.

"What...what the fuck was that?" she asked, her voice a little too loud because of her sudden hearing loss. Her gaze finally fell on him, and she noticed after some time of staring at him that he was still standing. From her perspective, he hadn't moved an inch. The only way that should've been possible was if he'd been expecting what was coming.

Dom shrugged, smirking down at her and taking another hit off of his cigar. "That, Jack, was a thug barbeque. And believe me, I've been waiting a long freakin' time to pull a stunt like that," he laughed, honestly enjoying himself as though he'd just pulled the best prank ever invented.

At last he offered her a hand, and she gratefully took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. "You blew them up? You blew up the crime scene?" she asked, sagging against him slightly, still stunned by the blast.

He was forced to abort his next shrug as he looped one arm under hers, supporting her weight so she wouldn't sink back to the ground. "Figured they were muscle working for that guy Shella's probably getting the Seka from, and that means we really don't want anyone connecting either of us to the place where they were killed. Seriously, how many other 'top secret' jobs would be going down around here that would be bigger than selling fake stolen cars?" he asked, taking a second to get a better grip around her waist with his right arm as he slowly moved the two of them along. There would be authorities absolutely crawling all over the area within seconds, and he sure as hell didn't want to be hanging around when they got there.

Jack leaned on him heavily, once again resuming a strong two-armed hold around his chest, doing her best to carry her own weight on her legs in the current stunned condition that was clinging to her. "So you blew them up? When did you plant the bomb? How did I not even know you were carrying a bomb?" she asked, feeling stupid and disoriented.

Dom laughed out loud, honestly amused by what he saw as her ever endearing naivety. "Let's just say that when some boys spend too much time traveling alone through space, they tend to get a little too creative in their attempts to pass the time."

"Oh, that makes sense, I guess," Jack said, her eyes and voice still dull from the slight shock she was suffering. "You know, Rick doesn't like cryo sleep either. He never really goes to sleep, I guess. You have that problem too, Dom?"

A laugh rumbled deep in his chest, soothing her in ways that words couldn't. "I wouldn't know. The only tubes that've ever been available to me were the ones that filled up with loc gel. I have aquaphobia, so I've really never tried it. Too afraid of drowning in my sleep," he replied simply, glad to see that his little trick had caught her interest...and diverted her anger...

"Yeah, I think you told me that once..." she agreed. Then continued after a pause, "So tell me one more time how you knew that Mustang was a fake?"

They were making good progress down the street, and were just getting out of the vicinity of the 'accident' as sirens and horns began screaming from the direction of the explosion.

"I knew it was fake because all the labels on individual parts said 'Made in USA' instead of 'Made in China,'" he informed her, snickering at his own joke.

"Serious?" Jack asked, wondering if he was just pulling her leg.

"Dead serious, Jack," he replied, sounding too amused for her to take him seriously at all.

She decided it had been far too long of a day to press the issue, and simply hugged him tighter as they continued down the street under the light of the moon and the stars, slowly making their way back to Riddick's house, together fading away into the calm of darkness.


	35. Phase Two

AN: It might be a while before I get the next chapter up. I have midterms and stuff starting next week again, so my spare time will be limited. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. It really is great motivation!

* * *

Jack had all of her bags and whatnot sitting by the door, ready to be packed into Riddick's car by four on Friday afternoon. However, she had to wait impatiently until five thirty for him to get home from work.

It was just the beginning of _the big night_, the start of the 'camping trip' she'd so diligently planned for. Everything hinged on that one evening, and Jack decided to take a nap on the couch in the living room in preparation. She doubted she'd be getting much sleep that night.

Rick woke her after he'd gotten home and eaten something. It was time to go.

They packed up the car in near-silence. Jack was lost in her thoughts and she figured Riddick probably was as well. It had, after all, been a rather long and trying week; for her at least. The waiting and agonizing over details of her plan had been exhausting. Never mind that if she was making a mistake she would in all likelihood be thrown to the curb, and in the process, she'd lose her hero forever. One way or the other, he'd be gone.

_Cold feet, Jack? _

_I know what he would want... _

_Do you? Are you sure he doesn't want to be this way forever? Maybe he's just faking it. Maybe he is like Dom and his body breaks down the drug before it can ever touch his brain. Maybe he's only playing dumb because he wants a life like this. _

_I can't believe that..._

She wouldn't believe that. Besides, if it was an act, if this was indeed the lifestyle he'd chosen for himself, she would find out soon enough.

Shella returned home just as the two of them were about to leave, getting out her car just as Jack was about to get into Riddick's.

"Ricky, dear," she clucked at Riddick like a mother hen, while arranging the strap of her purse to its regular position on her right shoulder.

Jack cringed, leaning heavily on the car door she'd just opened. Just when they were so close to getting away!

As was typical, Riddick smiled at her openly, his face completely unguarded and his expression genuine. "Yeah, baby?" he answered playfully, closing his trunk after having put in a cooler full of Hydrite on top of various duffle bags and packs.

On high heels Shella was almost as tall as her ex-convict boyfriend, and she made a point of strutting her stuff on them as she crossed the distance between them, kissing him thoroughly. The show, Jack assumed, was mostly for her benefit. Just one of a hundred small strikes that 'Shelly dearest' had pulled in her campaign to run Jack off. Little did she know that her petty attempt to mark Riddick as her territory that Friday afternoon only fueled her rival's zeal to steal him back as soon as possible; laying any doubts in her mind about her chosen course of action to rest.

Of course, it hadn't been easy to get Shella to agree to a camping trip in the first place. She'd whined and moaned until Jack was almost sure that Rick would give in to her and call the excursion off. However, under Dom's tutelage, Jack quickly learned that with direct and unavoidable statements, she could bend Shella's will to her own to a degree. The Seka she was dosing the woman with had definitely begun to take effect, and was turning out to have been a _brilliant_ move on Jack's part in their little chess game.

"I'm having some friends over for dinner, so I want you home by Sunday evening. Okay, Rick?" the tall blonde asked, but from Jack's perspective it sounded more like an order than a question.

Riddick smirked almost evilly. "Don't worry, we'll be home by noon, I promise," he replied, kissing her again, much to Shelly's obvious pleasure.

Jack rolled her eyes, beating down her urge to tell the two of them to get a room. Cause she knew if they _did_ get a room...there was no way she'd be able to pry Riddick out of the house until the next morning. Maybe not even until the next afternoon.

_Right, right. Enjoy him while you can, Shella. Cause after today, you ain't never gonna have him again. He might never be mine, but if I can help it, he sure as hell ain't gonna be yours either._

"All right, that's enough. Break it up before I gag," she insisted coolly after another minute of watching the two of them exchanging spit.

Reluctantly they separated, Rick turning to get in the driver's seat of his car, and Shella turning to walk slowly up the walk to the front door, her killer high heels clicking rhythmically against the pavement.

"Hey, Shella," Jack called after her.

The blonde witch turned, casting a mostly-disinterested look over her shoulder.

It took a moment for Jack to realize that the expected reply of, 'what?' was not going to pass the woman's blood red lips; so she pressed on without waiting for it. "Go to the bars tonight, you'll have fun meeting new people," she continued at last, winking at the witch before hopping into the car beside Riddick and slamming the door quickly.

She felt like laughing, but held it in. The purpose of her final comment would be lost on Rick, and if she could help it, he would never discover its true nature. It wouldn't be easy to explain away her attempts at brainwashing his girlfriend when he was entirely Riddick again.

_Assuming he would even care, once he's all Riddick again._

She smirked to herself, turning on the radio and finding an old hard rock song as Rick pulled out of the driveway, waving good-bye one last time to his 'lady love.'

Reclining a bit, and preparing to continue the nap she'd previously been interrupted from during the long drive, Jack sighed contentedly. She'd had dreams recently, about Riddick waving good-bye to Shella forever...

When he reached over, turning up the rock song she was listening to instead of changing the station to some of that new age crap Old Horny had gotten him hooked on, she couldn't help but smile at him. After all, who ever said that dreams couldn't come true?

* * *

He woke her when they got to the motel they would be staying at, shaking her shoulder gently. Jack got up stiffly, reluctantly, checking the time as she followed him inside to check-in and get their key cards. It was after eight in the evening, and by the time the two of them reached their room, Jack could see that Rick was noticeably tired.

"So," he said, beginning to unpack a few of his things and hang them up in the small closet. "What time is this thing starting tonight?"

Jack turned on the TV, picking a bed and flopping down on it after picking a bottle of Hydrite out of Riddick's cooler. "Ah, we don't have to go tonight. The fun stuff doesn't start until tomorrow morning anyway. Tonight they'll probably make us sit in a circle around a camp fire, say our names, and tell the whole group something about ourselves that we'd rather not. You know, sort of like anger management," she cracked sarcastically, hoping that he was still in a good enough mood to joke with.

Riddick smirked, just a bit. "Ha ha, Jack. Very funny. Toss me that bottle so I can have a drink," he said. Jack tossed the bottle over, having not even opened it yet. Rick caught it easily, and took a long draw of the drugged substance before throwing it back to her, then picked up some sweats and a t-shirt and locked himself in the bathroom to change out of his work clothes.

When he was gone, Jack almost reluctantly got to her feet, taking the Tupperware bottle she was holding plus all the Hydrite left in Riddick's cooler and dumping it slowly down the sink's drain. After a minute or two of pouring she heard a definite thud in the bathroom, and she sighed sadly.

For better or for worse, phase two of her plan was complete.

Jack turned on the water in the sink to wash away the final remnant of the red fluid, wishing that she'd had the foresight to bring a bottle of booze.

She had a feeling she was going to need it before the weekend was over.


	36. Taming the Devil

AN: Sorry this one took a while, but at least it's long, right? And just to warn folks, there's a bit of smut in here, so be careful what you read. It's not really very graphic, but if it ain't your thing, just skip between the 2 page breaks in the middle of the chap and you'll fly right over it.

* * *

He had to admit, even though Shella was a real tightass, she knew how to pick a club. He figured it was the stripper in her. She'd worked enough places, she could probably tell the difference between the ones that were class and the ones that were trash before she paid the cover and walked in the door.

He'd followed her when she went out that night, in accordance with Jack's plan. Apparently his girl had gotten her end of the deal done; given the bitch direct orders all week that she should go out on Friday night while Jack and Riddick where shacked up in some hotel somewhere out in the boonies.

When he really took the time to think about it, he figured that finding Jack had been just about the best present he ever could've gotten on that particular job. What luck that he had Jack B. Badd doing the dirty work in cleaning up the former Con-X... And he had a feeling like the girl might just get it done all on her own. She seemed like the type that always finished what she started...

Conte had decided that he could learn to like that in a woman.

So, as he'd been told to, he followed Riddick's whip-holder like a shadow. Never far away, yet never attracting anyone's notice. He watched as more than one man approached her that evening, offering to buy her a drink as she sat tall and pretty at the bar, taking in the scene. Each one struck out swinging, a specticle Dom found impossibly entertaining.

The girl was spoiled.

She had a man at her disposal so powerful that other male specimens paled in comparison. The only thing that would tempt her at that point was a reminder that there were parts of Riddick missing, parts that some guys still had... The Seka had kept Rick obediently anchored at Shella's side, but it had also stripped the man of his style, of his attitude, of the sense of danger that had once hung about him. Hell, for all he knew the ex-stripper might find the loss trivial; but it was a loss, nonetheless...

When Dominic Conte swaggered over to Shella's side, his head held high, his shades in place, the spoiled princess perked up and paid attention.  
He used one of his more classic smirks on her, cocking his head just a bit to the side almost expectantly, like their meeting had all been planned. It had...as a matter of fact...Shelly just didn't know it yet. "You looking to have fun with new people?" he asked, using the words that Jack should've been quoting to the woman all week.

A strange, detached smile touched Shella's lips. "Yeah, I am. Hey, aren't you Jack's boyfriend?" she asked, her brow creasing just a bit with curiosity.

Dom sauntered over, very smoothly taking a seat on the barstool next to her. "Actually, I was just thinking about Jack," he began. "I was thinking that she's a fun girl to hang around with, but it would be nice to spend some time with a real woman for once, ya know?"

Shella nodded a bit, smiling almost wickedly. "So, basically you're saying that she doesn't do it for you," she said, sounding like the idea of that amused her plenty.

Conte smirked. "After I saw you, how could any girl in high school _'do it'_ for me?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow slightly in both challenge and invitation.

When Riddick's girlfriend returned the wicked look, he knew that he'd hooked her. The only thing left to do was reel her in...and he had plenty of experience doing just that...

* * *

Almost as soon as she'd led him into her bedroom Shella practically threw herself at him. She seemed to have been waiting for the opportunity, and seeing as it had come at last, she took full advantage. She tried to kiss him, but Conte shoved her away, causing her to stumble backward several feet before regaining her balance. He walked after her, his jaw set, and grabbed her upper body, forcibly spinning her around and shoving her up against the wall. They'd both had a lot to drink that night. Dom had chugged most of a fifth in far too short an amount of time just before they'd left the bar. But in spite of his efforts, his damn overactive metabolism was causing the desired effects to fade, quickly.

He tried to convince himself that he was steady on his feet, taking up a stance that held his boots approximately shoulder-width apart as he roughly forced Shella to bend forward and brace herself against the wall before he lifted her skirt in the back, hitching the silky material up around her waist. Funny that a woman who considered herself taken hadn't bothered to wear any underwear while cruising the bars alone...

Still holding her skirt up so he could enjoy the view, Dom took a moment to deal with his own pants, using an almost business-like efficiency to get them out of his way with one hand. Shelly groaned with pleasure when he suddenly grabbed her hips, literally manhandling her into position and taking her without any foreplay. When she moaned a second time, he almost cringed, hating the sound. If it was up to the animal inside him, she'd be screaming, begging him to stop.

It didn't faze him much at all that he was leaving bruises everywhere he touched...especially where his fingertips were digging into the flesh of her hips and ass as he squeezed tighter and tighter. Fucking was a tool, being a pirate had taught him that. At times he used it as a break from the mundane. Sometimes he let it serve as a stress reliever. And more often than anyone would ever guess, he used it to show some hardass bitch who was boss...

Back in the day there had been more than one woman he'd Rogered at the Rail, just like he was doing to Shella at that very instant. Sometimes it was during a ship raid, sometimes it was on his own time. No matter when or where he did it, not one of the girls he'd done it to had withstood it very long before they ended up on their knees in submission. That was what he wanted then and always...to break a girl's spirit, completely dominate her. There was nothing he loved more than playing rough.

If he did Jack, it wouldn't be like that. She would be for pleasure. He'd take his time, face her while he did it, look her in the eyes. He needed Jack to be with it, she'd be useless if he broke her.

"Oh, God, Dom, you're so good..." Shella panted out loud after a while.

Before he could catch himself, his control slipped...just a bit. He almost never talked during sex, but just that once, the thing on his mind slipped out anyway. "Tell me I'm better than Rick," he ground out coldly, never pausing from his gut-wrenching pace.

A small shriek came from the ex-stripper, and then another moan. "Yes, you're better. You're a hundred times better!" she attested in earnest.

"Why, cause you're drugging him with some kind of fucking dope?" he snapped angrily, mostly under the control of the beast he was allowing to run wild. For once he was letting his true colors show through, and if Shella had been able to see his face, she would've been the first person in a long time to see just how ugly he could get inside.

"No," she groaned. "Because you play hardball."

The beast snarled at that answer before getting thrown back in its cage, the door slammed shut behind it. It ranted and raged, attacking bars that would not bend before it. But all its efforts to regain control were in vein. His other half had completely shut off all emotion, stopped any feeling from registering. Dom gritted his teeth, forcing his insides to become stone once again as he biti back the urge to just sit back for the ride and let everything slide right along on the road to hell. He couldn't do that, he couldn't let go, not yet... God, he was frustrated, but not yet...

He was going to have to settle for merely getting his payback that night. Four times over, at least. For messing with him, delaying his plans, he'd get Shella back. She owed him _big time_. Wasn't it just his luck, though, that she happened to like it just as rough as he did?

He'd have to fix _that_ somehow, make it work _somehow_... He was good at that kind of thing. The devils sitting on each of his shoulders were already working in tandem, whispering an almost constant string of evil ideas into his ears. He could hear them individually, and yet both at the same time, so it seemed like there were whispers all around him... His thoughts were coming so fast they were piling up on top of each other, one beginning before another had the chance to end.

_If you strangle her, she'll stop moaning so loud... _

_If you slip a knife into her gut, she'll scream for real... _

_If you bite her harder, Riddick'll know she's been with another man. A real man... _

_How long do you think you can keep me locked up, Domy boy? _

_You don't have the strength to stop me... _

_You never did... _

_Never will... _

_You're weak... _

_Let me make you strong..._

"Fuck! Shut the fuck up!" he shouted, putting the heel of one palm to his forehead and almost wincing in pain, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

Thinking he meant her, Shella immediately ceased making noise of any kind for all of ten seconds before the relentless churning of Dom's hips pushed her over the edge, and then the whole world crashed down around her until she wasn't aware of anything.

Not even her own screams.

* * *

He woke up near dawn with a mild headache in a bed that didn't smell like his own. Mostly because it _wasn't_ his own. He was the stranger in it. It bothered him more than he liked, that he was the mutt about to run out the back door just as soon as the big dog got home. But still, his mission was accomplished for the most part, wasn't it? For the moment anyway...

His arm was asleep. Mostly because dumb blonde Shella was lying on it. Stupid bitch. Had her head resting on his chest and everything.

_Don't the two of us just make a fine pair?_ he thought, disgusted for reasons that he was having trouble putting a finger on.

It wasn't typical for anything as pathetic as a woman to get under his skin. He was a regular 'bed um to your liking then leave um before dawn, no strings attached' sort of average Joe. But Shella had actually managed to penetrate his thick hide. She irked him mercilessly, had done so for months, made complications where there would be none if he only had to work his mark...

Shit, his mark? Wasn't he supposed to be pumping the bitch for information right about then? Was he even sober enough for that sort of shit?

_Pfft, sober? Since when are YOU not sober, Conte? Too fucking sober if you ask me..._

Wasn't that the truth.

"Mm, hey," she whispered, having woken up at last. Dom let his eyes fall shut again, almost wishing that when he opened them she'd be gone.  
He opened them. There she was, looking up at him with full-on afterglow. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She smirked at him, wrinkling her nose a little. "How old are you?" she asked, propping her head up on one arm and allowing the fingertips on her opposite hand to trail teasingly over his lower belly. The taunt muscles in his stomach jumped in response. In spite of catching a couple hours of sleep his body was wound far too tight, as was typical for him after a night of heavy drinking. And besides that, the expression she was considering him with was one of wry amusement.

Dom didn't like the idea that he amused her one bit.

"Seventeen. You know, Jack's age," he replied lowly, letting his voice drop to its usual pitch, the comfortable tone he rarely used when playing his part around Jack. He rubbed his eyes harder than necessary, causing him to see small explosions of spots on his vision.

She took a moment to think about that, looking down at his abs and smiling peacefully. She looked almost like an angel when she did that, he realized. And more like a stereotypical innocent school girl than Jack ever did. Strange the sort of things that a little mind control could bring out of a person... He wondered if perhaps under different circumstances, Shella wouldn't have ended up the doomed slutty bitch that she'd turned out to be in her current life.

"I've never seen a guy with so much muscle who was so pale," she commented lightly, tracing over some of the softer curvature of his abdomen. "Most men who are vein enough to keep their bodies looking as good as yours take the time to bronze up, make everything really stand out."

Dom let his right arm settle behind his head so it would be easier to look down at her. He snorted almost haughtily. "I ain't no Rick Costello, lady. I've done _hard_ time. My days of being a carefree child playing in the sun ended when I got tossed in the slammer back when I was eight years old. I didn't get out of Juvy until I was twelve, and then I spent some three years in the depths of deep space before I did a stint in a max security. For the last ten years, not counting when I was in prison, I haven't spent more than a few weeks planet side at a time. A couple of months, tops. Not really long enough to get a tan, if ya know what I mean.

"Stayin' ain't my style. The only thing I'm real good at is leavin'," he said with more spite than he meant to, and with more honesty as well.

"No family?" she asked softly, almost catching him off guard with those soft blue eyes and the tone of concern.

Dom didn't look at her, instead he chose to turn his gaze to the arm he slowly raised into his field of vision, taking a moment to examine one of the nastiest scars he had that he was actually able to see without having to crane in his neck in all kinds of crazy directions to see it in a mirror. Before he knew it, Shella had reached out to touch the tender skin of his forearm, tracing along the straight line that extended from his wrist all the way down to the inside of his elbow.

"Who did that to you?" she asked, seemingly fascinated by its presence on him.

"No one, I did it to myself. It was a really stupid thing..." he trailed off absently, getting lost in the swirling vortex of his past.

"You tried to kill yourself? In prison?" she opined.

Dom shook his head as his eyes slowly glassed over. "It was a promise that I made while I was in prison. Where I came from, they believed that if a man broke a pact based on his lifeblood, than that man would be struck down by the gods and sentenced to death. I remember that my father took his religion very seriously, and when my mother called me just before she was killed...she told me he was dead and made me swear a blood oath to her. I think she made me do it because she thought my word wasn't good enough. I couldn't just say that I meant it, I had to bleed for it. She didn't know who I'd grown up to be cause she hadn't seen me since I was a kid, and she probably knew that she'd lost me. I wasn't her son anymore...he'd died... That was the last time I talked to her..."

Shella lowered her head so it was resting on the broad expanse of his chest, listening intently to his story. "So, what was your promise?" she asked, her liquid blue eyes considering him carefully.

Conte let his arm fall heavily back onto the bed as he tilted his head back, turned his gaze to the ceiling. "She made me promise that when I got out of Juvy, I'd find my brat of a little sister and take care of her," he stated, no real vehemence in his tone. In spite of his words, he didn't sound like he regretted the occurrence in the slightest.

"Did you?" she asked after a moment, her voice almost shaky, like she was on the edge of tears.

He nodded. "Yeah, I found her. Had to haul her ungrateful ass around with me until I could set her up with a family that would actually take her. Dumb kid cried when I left her there. She was always too stupid to see how good she had it. I went to Juvy slam, she still had our parents for four years until they were killed. I had to go on the run as an undersized pre-teen ex-con, she got to set up shop in a middleclass suburban neighborhood with a park at each end of the street and pool in her backyard. And get this; when I left, she begged me to take her with me. God, she was retarded..." he growled softly, obviously still aggravated by some part of the memories he had of the girl.

"Don't you miss her if she's the only family you have left?" Shella asked, softly stroking his chest.

"_Hell_ no," he asserted testily, almost rolling his eyes at the absurdity of the idea. "I was never happier than I was when I finally got that monkey off my back. Jesus Christ. I was better at being a badass kid in a dog-eat-dog world than I ever was at being a babysitter. Besides, that fucking bitch was the reason why I ended up in the slammer in the first place. I would've left her to die too, if my ma hadn't guilt tripped me into going after her."

Shella sat up abruptly, gathering the sheet around herself before slapping him hard across the face. "Bastard," she hissed, getting up and making her way to the bathroom where she slammed the door behind her.

He could hear her quiet sobs in the next room as he somberly got dressed. He'd struck a nerve, pushed her buttons, manipulated her. He didn't feel any regret for doing any of that, it was all part of the plan. She was on her knees in pain, just like he'd intended. No, the part he found unsettling had nothing to do with Shella at all. Seka influenced or not, she was a cold hard bitch who deserved whatever she got. And for hurting her, he'd have to watch his back. But fortunately for Dom, that was his second best talent...right after leaving.

The reason why he felt so down all of a sudden? That was due to the memories he'd dredged up. Believe it or not, there'd been a time when he hadn't known all the rules of the game yet, hadn't known how to turn down the flame and let his blood run through him like ice water. He hadn't always had the control that he'd had to force upon himself over the years, building layer upon layer of his walls, filling in any and every crack that might cause him to stumble. And back in that time, when he hadn't quite been so jaded, so experienced, hadn't been half as twisted...there had been a girl who'd latched onto him as her protector and for a brief period of time she'd forced upon him the conscience he hadn't been born with.

He'd let her stay with him until her calming influence and good intentions nearly got them both killed. Then he'd been forced to dump her off as soon as possible with a human family that promised to take care of her.

Lasia had only been eight or so at the time. She hadn't understood why he had to leave her. It wasn't like he'd bothered to try to explain it to her, because he'd known there wasn't a chance in the universe that he would've ever been able to make her get why he had to abandon her. It wouldn't have been possible to explain that her mere presence in his life had dulled his brain, his wits, even his senses. She'd compromised his ability to survive. He'd had no choice but to say good-bye and be done with her, keeping his pact with their mother while insuring that they would each have the best chance to go on living.

Yes, he'd gone to prison for her. Yes, there had been a time he'd hated her for it. But in the end, he wouldn't have made it so long if it hadn't been for her... He wouldn't have known how to fight everyday for his life. How to struggle and kick, rip and tear, until he was the only man left standing.

If he hadn't gone to prison for her, they both would've died as children, because he wouldn't have had the strength to keep them alive.

As he was walking out the front door of Riddick's house, lighting up a cigarette as he walked, all he could think was that if he had the ability to burn the image of that teary-eyed eight year old girl out of his memory, he would've done it a long time ago...

As far as he was concerned, Lasia Conte was dead. And soulless beast that he'd become, Dom honestly didn't care.


	37. Reawakening

At first, Jack had thought that the hardest part of the night from her end would be dragging Riddick's heavy ass out of the bathroom and over to his bed.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

Sure, he was the one who was enduring radical changes in body temperature, fits, and delirium. But Riddick was unconscious, and Jack had to merely sit by and watch the whole illness unfold, completely powerless to help him.

The drug she'd slipped him initially only lasted a few hours, the injection she'd given him after he'd fallen unconscious was supposed to cover the rest of the night. Dom had told her the injection would help the withdrawal, but that Riddick's symptoms would still be severe for at least twenty four hours, if not more.

She was still wondering just what Conte had meant by 'severe.'

If he died, her bags were packed and waiting to be thrown hastily into the car for her trip to the nearest port. She had a one way ticket that would take her quite a ways before anyone would ever know what had happened. But she wasn't entirely sure that if he did die, she'd be able to leave him. At that point, there weren't very many things she could think of that would have the power to tear her away from his side.

He tossed and turned all night, sweating profusely. He would mumble sometimes, things that Jack couldn't understand. Sometimes he would shout incomprehensively, almost seizing in a state of panic unlike any she'd ever seen before. Riddick would thrash wildly, and it would take all of her strength just to try to keep him from hurting himself or her as she sat next to him on the bed.

At times, during his calmer moments, she would pat him down with a cool cloth, wondering if she should try to have him drink water to stave off dehydration caused by losing so much water through perspiring. The only reason she didn't attempt it was the memory of Dom's words that dehydration helped get the poison out faster.

After several hours of trying to help him get comfortable, Jack found that he seemed the most soothed when she would sing to him quietly. She talked to him a great deal that night, about all the things she'd done while he'd been gone, about how much she cared for him and the reason why she was forcing him to endure such a harsh trial. She hoped, deep down, that he could hear her. She hoped, he wouldn't kill her when he was well again...

* * *

When dawn came, the worst seemed to be over. Riddick had been sleeping quietly for most of an hour, and Jack too had caught a few minutes of shut-eye lying curled up beside him on the sweat-soaked sheets.

With nearly painful slowness, Richard B. Riddick began to stir, waking from the brief sleep that had completely claimed him. When he moved, Jack bolted awake, sitting up to check on him. Nothing had changed, besides the fact that he'd regained consciousness. His body was still covered with a sheen of sweat as he turned to look at her, his light-sensitive eyes shielded by his contacts. Sitting stock-still, Jack wondered what he saw when he stared into her face. At one time he'd told her that people's features appeared to him like a map of planes, lights and shadows that outlined every individual curve and depression. She could only imagine what it would be like to live in a world that was so deeply contrasted.

"Riddick?" she whispered, calling him by the name she hoped he was ready to respond to once again.

But he didn't respond. He didn't say a word as he rose with great effort, and stumbled toward the bathroom.

He'd locked her out, and in more ways than one. Her questions of concern through the door went unanswered. The door remained shut.

At last she resigned to turn back on the TV and try to wait him out. She heard the shower run after a bit, and then she didn't hear anything for a long time.

Jack finally stooped to unscrewing the knob with her pocketknife, allowing the door to swing open. He was still conscious, and standing steadily on his own, staring intensely at his own reflection in the mirror. He didn't act like he'd noticed that she'd once again entered his space. She cautiously approached him as though he were a wild animal, about to spook at any second.

"You were sick because of withdrawal. I think there was something addictive in your Hydrite," Jack whispered, hoping to God he was still _him_. What if he'd sustained brain damage? How would she ever live with herself?

"I think I need to shave," he replied absently, his tone so detached she was stunned once again into silence.

"Shave?" she repeated stupidly.

He nodded, running his index finger and thumb over the goatee that he'd grown in an attempt to hide his face and better fit in around the office. "Yeah. I think I'm tired of this stupid thing. I think it makes me look fat," he said, turning his head to one side so he could get a better look at his profile.

Jack's eyes remained slightly wide as she stared at him as dumbly as she possibly could. "Okay, Rick, you do that." As if she was on a swivel, Jack turned on her heel and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her and walking over to thunk down solidly on her bed.

'Makes him look fat?' she mouthed in disbelief.

It was impossible. How the _hell_ could he still be exactly the same as he had been? What was the deal? She'd been feeling more like herself as soon as she'd woken up after getting off that stuff. Were the personality changes somehow made permanent after a more extended period of time?

When Riddick briefly walked into her line of sight while collecting his shaving kit Jack could do nothing but let her face fall into her hands.  
She'd failed him. She'd come to him too late…

_But at least you didn't kill him,_ her mind whispered. And with that, she could not argue.

* * *

Very little was said between them for the rest of the weekend as they passed the time in front of the television. Riddick seemed more than withdrawn. Whenever Jack made an attempt at conversation, his reaction was always sluggish, as if his brain could only process things slowly. In spite of her failure, she hoped that his symptoms would gradually improve, bringing him back at least the ability to function and live normally. It was clear that her attempt to improve his quality of life had been an abysmal failure, a misguided attempt to satisfy her own selfish agenda. She should've thought of him first, should've thought of what she might do to him.

On the drive back Sunday morning, Jack only sank deeper into depression. It was suddenly hard for her to think of Shella as a villain when _she_, Jack, had finally stripped Riddick of the little dignity he'd had left. What the bitch hadn't been able to do, she'd finished in one day.  
It seemed very fitting that it was raining by the time they reached home. The early-afternoon sky was slowly darkening with large thunderheads creeping across the land.

Not even seeing Old Horny again could bring her any lower. She'd hit rock-bottom after all and Shella had won. Jack had already decided that she was going to leave their home the next day in order to allow Rick to live out his days in peace. She would give him no more trouble.

Dom had mentioned being something of a wanderer. She wondered if perhaps he'd let her take up residence on his ship. If she was lucky she might just be able to forget all about Richard B. Riddick and take off on a new adventure to parts unknown with a replacement hero.

But then again, luck had never seemed to be one of Jack's shining attributes, especially when chasing men. She _had_ ended up on the Hunter-Grazner, after all.

So she sat on the couch and endured the endless and sometimes demeaning questioning from Shella's 'girlfriends' about her past, her schooling, her hobbies, and a thousand other things she couldn't remember that they asked of her while Shella was out of the room preparing dinner and Riddick sat in his regular chair, staring blankly at the wall.

She resigned to meekly chew on her nails, warring within herself about more important matters, like if she would inform Riddick that she was leaving, and how she could possibly tell Imam without hurting him that she had no intention of imposing on his kindness any futher...

And then, it happened. The real bombshell was dropped in a war that Shella had yet to realize was even over. When the whole group of them were called to dinner, the blonde pulled Jack roughly aside on her way to the dining room, an evil glint in her eye. The others continued on, seeming not to notice since Jack had purposely been walking last in line.

"Now listen, brat..." the woman whispered so none of her guests would overhear.

Jack roughly pulled her arm from the woman's grasp. "Don't touch me," she growled just as low. She had no intention of attracting attention to herself, either.

Shella's smirk didn't fade in the slightest, so Jack figured that whatever she was about to hear couldn't possibly be pleasant. Well, she had her own ace up her sleeve, didn't she? She'd burst Shella's bubble by not giving a damn about what she had to say, no matter how bad it was.

"You think you're so tough, don't you, Jack? You thought you could play in the big leagues, but now you're sunk. I may not be able to pry your ass out of here with a crowbar now, but soon I won't even have to try. Ricky won't have any choice but to get rid of you when I tell him that we're going to need your room for space by next summer. And just guess why we'll need it, Jack," Shella prodded her harshly. "Still think he's going to choose you over me?"

Jack shrugged. "I think that he's damaged goods. I have better waiting for me over at the ship yards. At least I didn't have to drug Dom into liking me," she accused, but there was no venom behind her tone. She truly was through with all of Shella's shit, and she refused to allow the skank's attempted slights to faze her.

An almost insane look crossed Old Horny's face at the mention of Dom, and Jack's stomach instantly tightened as she remembered that part of the plan that weekend had been for Conte to lead Shella to believe he preferred her over Jack. He'd promised to have her brainwashed to perfection by the time she and Riddick got back...but apparently he'd failed, just like she had.

Her plan had been flawed all around...

She should never have dragged Dom into her mess...

The blonde bitch was saying something to her, something about how Conte wasn't nearly so loyal to her as she was being led to believe.

Jack merely walked away, still living in the haze of the funk that had begun to take her as soon as she'd realized that she was never getting Riddick back.


	38. Tossing Out the Trash

AN: Might be a while before the next one comes out, got more tests coming up. It's really seriously starting to feel like they never end...

* * *

To say the least, from Jack's point of view, dinner was subdued. She sat next to Riddick, picking at her food. The tofu was overcooked...again... But who knew, maybe it was supposed to taste like that.

The constant drone of girly conversation didn't bother her much. She was too lost in her own thoughts of whether or not she'd actually announce her leaving or if she'd merely slip away unnoticed in the night. Obviously she had to tell Imam something or he'd worry, but somehow she just couldn't bare seeing the smug satisfaction on Shella's face...

"Oh, Ricky-bear," the bitch crooned.

In spite of the fact that she'd told herself she wouldn't let that woman grate on her nerves anymore, Jack cringed when she heard her hero called by such a disgusting pet name. The fact that he was mostly dead to the world looked like a blessing for the first time as Riddick didn't even seem to notice he'd been addressed. He merely continued to eat, his motions almost mechanical, his eyes glazed. Only Jack seemed to notice that while Rick's lights might appear to be on, no one was home.

"Rick!" Shella half-shouted, at last gaining some sliver of her boyfriend's attention as his fork stopped its regular rising and falling motion just above his plate.

"Hmm?" he finally responded, tiredly gazing in Shelly's general direction.

"Darling, I was just noticing that you shaved your beard while you were gone. The girls and I all think you look very handsome."

Riddick nodded, but Jack didn't buy that he'd actually computed the compliment, merely reacted as seemed appropriate.

Seeming to finally catch on that something might be amiss, Shella stood, walking around the table to stand behind the ex-con. She gently began to massage his shoulders. "Didn't you have a good time on the camping trip, baby?" she asked, sounding _oh so concerned_.

Riddick merely shrugged. "It was fine. Just tired, I guess," he replied, allowing his jaw to rest on one palm, his dull eyes turning toward Jack, who immediately found something more interesting to look at across the room. She still couldn't bare to look at him. The shame was still too raw on her soul.

"Well, I was going to wait until later to tell you, but since you seem to need cheering up..." Shella trailed off teasingly. Every one of her friends leaned slightly forward in their chairs in anticipation.

Jack allowed her forehead to fall into the crook of her arm and she sighed sadly, staring at the pristine whiteness of the table cloth just an inch from the end of her nose. _Oh boy, here it comes, Jackie. Your consolation prize. No matter how this weekend had turned out he was bound to be stuck with her forever and ever. Maybe he's better off this way, not quite living in the present..._

"Ricky and I are going to have a baby!" Shella announced, not to cheer up her boyfriend, but to impress her female friends so they could all go 'aww' and congratulate her and fuss and giggle.

Jack was thoroughly un-entertained by the spectacle she could only hear as she buried her eyes more tightly into her arm. It wasn't until she felt something brush against her knee under the table that she perked up, her senses heightening. The next thing she knew, a strong grip was squeezing the blood out of her leg, and she almost yelped when it unexpectedly tightened to the threshold of pain.

She looked up and was stunned stupid to find Riddick's gaze still on her, intensely burning into her, almost through her. Her mouth fell open, just a little as she realized he had reached for her where no one could see.

"Get them out," he whispered so only she could hear. "I swear to God, Jack, if you don't..."

She didn't know what to do. Get them out? How the hell was she supposed to do that? Shella wouldn't listen to her if she told her to go!

"I...I don't know how..." she whispered back, frantically picking her brain for any scrap of an idea. "She won't listen to me..."

His stare once again became glassy, and his jaw tightened measurably, causing the muscles in his face to all stand out. A vein was throbbing at his temple. She wasn't prepared to have his fingers bring further pressure to bare on her thigh, just above her knee joint. A small whimper escaped her lips just before she clamped them shut, biting back against any other unintentional lapses that might try to come out of her mouth.

No one noticed. No one but the two of them knew of the struggle occurring under the table cloth as Jack attempted to free herself. She grabbed Riddick's thick forearm with both hands, trying to pry him off of her. "Rick, you're hurting me," she whispered frantically, nearly gasping when she finally allowed herself the ability to speak.

He didn't seem to notice that she was in pain, or even that she was there.

"Rick!" she begged, nearly screaming as one of his fingertips suddenly dug right into a nerve. Only by biting her own knuckles did she keep any sound from escaping her.

When the worst of that initial wave of pain faded she pulled her pocketknife from its easily accessible location in her cargos and flipped it open, not holding back at all as she stuck him with it, hard.

She would've collapsed with relief when he released her, if she hadn't already been sitting. But she didn't have much time to draw in upon her abrupt freedom. Before the kinked muscles in her leg could cease their spasms, Riddick drew himself up to his full height, his fists clenched, and his right arm bleeding.

At that very second Jack starred up at him in awe and was reminded of what she imagined a Spanish bull would look like the instant before he speared the matador with his horns. Downtrodden, abused, desensitized to his own pain...and mad enough to kill...

* * *

To say the least, things got ugly. Riddick literally roared at Shella until she was in tears. Her friends scattered, as did Jack. No one wanted to hang around for that particular lover's quarrel.

Jack listened to the entire proceedings from her room while lying on her back in bed. She heard everything, from Riddick's confusing rant, to the moment when things went dead quiet, and the only thing that could be heard were Shella's pathetic and tearful pleadings while he gathered up her clothes and threw them out onto the street in large garbage bags.

That Jack witnessed while gazing out her window.

The only part she could really make out was Old Horny's repeated question of 'why?' Why throw her out just when she'd told him he was going to be a father? Jack was asking herself the same question. Why blow up just when things became hopeless? She hated to admit it, but even _she_ knew that Riddick would always owe his child _something_. The kid hadn't done anything wrong, and the last thing Jack wanted was to be responsible for robbing a child of its father. _That_ had definitely never been part of the plan.

Neither had a lot of things...

* * *

Hours later, when Shella was long gone, Jack cautiously approached Riddick's room, knocking, and then quietly opening the door.

It was dark inside. The only light she could pick up on at first were the two flashing pinpricks that were staring blankly at the open and mostly empty walk-in closet across the room from the chair Riddick was sitting in.

Having no method of gauging his mood, Jack was reluctant to speak for fear that he would turn on her next. What _had_ she done to him?

"Why?" she asked simply, restating the question that he'd obviously been too enraged to answer earlier when it had been posed by his girlfr...by his ex...

The pinpricks shifted to look at her, and she was encouraged by the fact that they seemed to be taking her in. "I don't know," he rumbled softly in the darkness.

So, it seemed they were both trying to keep things simple. In that case, Jack decided to cut to the chase. "You realize that if she really is..."

"If she is, it isn't mine," he cut her off.

Jack allowed one eyebrow to rise skeptically, knowing he'd be able to pick up on the subtle motion in the dark. "You know that for sure, or are you just guessing? You can't shirk on a responsibility like that, Riddick…"

He just stared at her for a long moment, stripping her bones of flesh with those haunting silver eyes. "How did it go, Jack? First you were a boy, then you were a girl, and finally you were psychic? Doesn't hardly seem logical that you wouldn't have all the answers at your disposal..."

Jack immediately clenched her fists, not much liking his tone. What the fuck did he think he was playing at? "Don't you dare think you can mind fuck with me, Riddick," she hissed. "I know you, I know the _real_ you. You've been playing behind a mask for a long time now, but that doesn't mean that _I_ can't still read you like a God damn book!"

"Then enlighten me, Jack. What could possibly get me so hot and bothered about Shella being pregnant after I spent so much time and effort on our joke of a relationship?" he posed in an almost mocking tone that told her he was baiting her.

"I don't know, Riddick, but if you keep this guessing game shit up you're bound to end up a very lonely man in the incredibly near future," she growled through clenched teeth before turning back to the door, ready to leave him to his miserable half-existence.

Just when she'd reached the door his words reached out to ensnare her again, softer this time, more like Rick Costello than Richard B. Riddick. "Got fixed up in the pen, Jack. That's how I know, that's why I'm sure... Never told anyone, cause I always figured it made me less of a man somehow." A short pause ensued, during which those eyes of his closed. When they opened again, he continued, "I don't know what's happening to me, kid. It was sort of like everything was going along real smooth, and then bang, she practically slaps me in the face with the fact that she's cheated on me and acts like I'm too stupid to realize she's done it. Everything just sort of blew up in my face all at once. They didn't cover that sort of thing...not in any of my classes, anyway..."

"That's probably because they don't know how to handle a Riddick-sized rage issue in a standard anger management class. All they're prepared for is the rest of us mere mortals," she joked weakly, hoping that she was successful in masking the sudden wash of pity she felt rushing through her chest.

In the darkness he laughed shortly, just enough to let her know that he'd gotten the joke.

It was several minutes before either of them spoke again. Riddick slowly levered himself out of his chair, wondering over to look out the window at the twin rising moons as he braced his good arm against the wall. At last there was enough light touching him that Jack could make out more than his outline, and she found that she couldn't help but approach him, drawn in close by a force she couldn't name.

When she reached out to touch his shoulder, he didn't flinch in surprise. If anything, he seemed to relax against her hand, sighing mightily. "Why're you still hanging around me, Jackie? Why aren't you out with some friends right now? Or that frat boy, Derrick? He seemed to really like you," he said, sounding like he was trying to keep things from getting too heavy, even though the effort was hollow.

"You mean Dominic?" she supplied, smirking slightly and wondering if he'd misspoken on purpose or not. His memory had always been better than superb as far as she could remember, even for stickler details like the names of people he didn't like.

"Yeah, right, Dominic... Seems like if he's your boyfriend, you would want to be with him."

Jack smiled slightly as it all suddenly became too clear. Riddick was afraid of being alone, possibly for the first time in his life... She understood that feeling, that sensation of possible abandonment. Right after she'd gotten off the Seka, she'd spent a lot of her time confused, questioning herself. Questioning who Jack was. Questioning if there really was a Jack anymore...

Slowly, she wrapped both arms around his right bicep, hoping that she wouldn't spook him by moving too quickly. Obviously, the time for extreme patience was at hand.

When she turned her eyes up to look at him, she found him waiting intently, if silently, for her reply. She let her smile grow a little, hoping that it would serve as reassurance, even though she knew it was probably more than a little sad. "It feels like there's two people in your head, telling you what to do, doesn't it? One of them keeps telling you that you should do things the way you used to do them, and the other keeps on tilting you toward living the same way you have been. Even though it was forced on you, the new habits seem comfortable and familiar. I know it's a lot easier to just let go of that person you used to be, but you've got to fight, Riddick. I've been fighting for you up until now, but from here on out you've got to help me. And I promise that no matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure that you're all straightened out again," she assured him, hoping too that her promise of commitment wouldn't send him running for the hills.

At last he nodded, seeming to understand the direction she was coming from. But would he believe her? It wasn't like anyone had been particularly truthful with him during his lifetime, and recently even Jack had fallen into the category of people trying to deceive him.

"It's hard," he rumbled, his speech deliberate. "Everything's so jumbled up. I get confused...I don't even know how to act... It's not even about being human or surviving...I don't have any reference points, no place to start... Rick Costello would go after Shella, apologize, listen to her side of things, ignore the fact that the room we've shared for two years smells like another man..." he trailed off.

"But Riddick wouldn't," Jack finished for him.

He shook his head, speaking cryptically. "No, Riddick would go after her too. I don't know how the fuck she did it, Jack, but she hurt me. Maybe it's just in my mind, but it feels like she cut a piece out of my chest. I just can't decide if she took it out of my heart or my pride. If she'd done that to Richard B. Riddick, he _definitely_ would've gone after her. And maybe that's the difference..."

"What is?" she prodded lightly when he didn't continue after a few seconds. She'd been inspecting the scabbed over cuts that she'd inflicted on his forearm at dinner, already planning in her mind how she was going clean and bandage them if he let her.

Nervously, he reached out with his other hand, gently tilting her chin up so she was looking him in the face. "Maybe that's the difference between me and the cold blooded killer who died back on T2. Maybe he didn't have the strength to make it back to the ship... Maybe he didn't hear Jack calling him out of the darkness..."


	39. Skitz

AN: Sorry for the delay, but like I said, the midterms are a killer... This is sort of a worthless chapter, but I figured it was semi-necessary in the long run. The next one will be better, promise.

* * *

Things definitely hadn't gone to plan that weekend. Not quite to Jack's, and definitely not to his. To say that he was disgusted with himself was an understatement. He'd broken his own golden rule of survival. Dominic Conte had gotten emotionally involved. And for the time being, there was nothing he could do but lie on his couch, watch the vid screen, and sulk.

It wasn't a permanent problem. More of a hiccup that happened only on the rarest of occasions. He'd let the darker part of him gain too much control, and from there things had snowballed. All there was left to do was pick up the pieces and move forward with plan B. He was flexible, could go with the flow... That more than anything was what made him the best in a league of talented professionals.

He'd only been recognized as _the best_ for about a year and a half. But already he'd far and away eclipsed the rein of any hot shot who'd come before him. In fact, before him, the longest any man had held the title had been a grand total of six months. It was a tough business, and the turn over was a real killer...

But...high mortality rate aside, it paid good...better than any other occupation available to him, legal or otherwise...

Before he'd even received the assignment he'd decided that his next job would be his last. Because of his age, bailing out counted as early retirement. But in reality, he was the most experienced of veterans after surviving in the business for eighteen missions. His handler had once told him that considering he started out as a scrawny, half-starved fifteen year old just escaped from Slammer Nine, it was an absolute miracle that he was still alive.

The only reason anyone had given him a shot in the first place had been because of the hushed whispers in the underground of the things he'd done in the past. When he'd stumbled out of the small jumper that had carried him during the three week journey from Slam to the outskirts of civilization, where lawlessness was the only law there was, no one had believed that _he_ was _the_ Dom Conte.

Nevertheless, his reputation had definitely preceded him. Almost everyone he met had at least heard of the inhuman living legend that he was quickly becoming. Some even claimed to have met the rogue...

They knew all about the things he'd done in Juvy, the things he'd done as a pirate, and even what he'd done while escaping Nine. In particular, the rumors about Nine had grown so quickly, and in such proportion, that he wasn't sure how he'd ever live up to them. As it was, he had to kill a few people just to convince the higher-ups that he really was definitely the guy they were all talking about, _and_ he meant business. At the time, doing dirty work hadn't been an easy task, especially considering that during his trip from prison he'd been all but starved due to the ship's lack of reserves...

Well, near lack of reserves...

There was food to be found almost anywhere humans were, if you're the sort who's 'flexible' enough to use it...

No one really understood that since he wasn't a classic human, eating the members of the flight crew he'd killed just before takeoff hadn't technically made him a cannibal. He'd been a stupid kid who hadn't planned well and when he'd found himself in a pickle that only held one gruesome escape, he'd welcomed it with open arms.

It had made him a monster in the eyes of those who heard the stories, and he had yet to meet a man who thought otherwise. Not that he cared. After all, why should _he_ dissuade the story tellers from frightening children with his name? There were probably several million kids out there in the sectors he'd terrorized that ate their vegetables daily and went to bed when they were told because they were afraid that if they didn't, _Conte_ would get them.

Not many seventeen year olds in the galaxy who could say they'd made that sort of motivational impact among the youth of the universe... But of course, all fame came with a price. Dom had been forced to change his name so many times to throw off people hunting for him, _he_ could hardly keep all of his aliases straight anymore.

It had been a long time since he'd chanced the use of his favorite first and last name. Good thing that the last job was so far out of the way of the mainstream, otherwise he probably wouldn't have been able to use it, would've made the proverbial criminal hall of fame under a less preferred title. But soon, not as soon as he'd like, but soon enough..._he would_ get what he'd come for.

But it should've been sooner.

Blowing it with Shella was a setback. It happened. Not to him, typically, but it did happen. And when it did, he tended to get..._anxious_... Like any power-hungry control freak, it would take him hours, if not _days_ to get over the fact that he'd let her slip through his fingers.

The setup had been perfect. Jack had asked him to brainwash the bitch and hadn't given a damn how he did it as long as the whore was out of her way. However, his own purposes had required taking things one step further. He was supposed to break her, totally, completely. Make her _his_ bitch. All he'd had to do was stick with it...but like an idiot, he'd left. Just got the fuck up and left.

He'd prowled the town most of the following night, still stuck in a dark mood, feeling the need to rip and tear the world apart and then put it back together so it would be in order to his liking.

Of course, it was never _that_ easy. Nothing ever was... Nothing worth doing, anyway... All he could do was wait. Usually, that was something he was good at, excelled at even; but he'd been actually acting his age lately, and perhaps because of the lack of action, he was getting jumpy...

Then again, maybe the added agitation was due to the fact that the climate control on his spaceship was busted, and since he was too damn lazy to fix it, it was broiling hot in his digs. He nearly smirked at that thought. Damn if he wasn't getting lazy doing just about everything. Time was, he would've traded off that hunk of rust for a new one months before to reduce the chance that he'd fall into a routine, slack off on keeping one step ahead of all the fuckers gunning for his hide.

_Too many fucking enemies for a boy your age, Conte. You need to find yourself a safer hobby..._

_Or maybe just a pretty girl to settle down with on some planet like this on the outer ring. You know, start yourself a nice life like Riddick's got. Little lady, regular job, maybe a handful of rug rats too, after a few years..._

The beast growled nastily from its cage at those thoughts, laughing at him cryptically. _Yeah, good luck with that, Domy boy. You just see how long you'd last in that kind of a life. YOU and a classy girl? Yeah, that'll be the day. Even if you fooled her long enough to get serious, she'd start asking questions eventually. Where you sneak off to in the middle of the night, for starters. Where DO you sneak off to, Domy? Off running in the woods with all the other animals, howling at the moon?_

"Shut up," he growled, arching his body in agitation off the too-warm couch before allowing himself to sink back down into a more comfortable position.

_You've got to be kidding me. You actually think she'd want you if she knew? I told you not to get attached..._

"I'm not attached. Can't get attached if I don't have a fucking heart, can I? Guys like me aren't swayed that easily. No matter what, I'll get my business finished," he swore firmly.

_Well, you WEREN'T so easily swayed. You are getting older, you know. Your body's still changing. Maybe as an adult you won't be as tough as you used to be, won't be as smart. Maybe those hormones are turning you into butter as we speak..._

Dom sighed, allowing his eyes to slide shut before reaching up to wipe the sweat from his face with one rough hand. "And maybe they're the reason you're driving me crazier than ever..."

When he forced his eyes open again, to face the heat and the light of the room outside of his mind, he found that right hand of his still absently resting on his brow, half forgotten in his turmoil.

He studied it, tilting it over in the light so he could see the back as well. It was as normal as any. Not huge, like some guys his size; it was compact, square, strong. Bone and joints covered with an intricate weave of muscle and ligaments kept healthy by a steady flow from the heart he'd fought so hard to keep beating all these years. And finally, the entire miracle of design was covered by the flesh of a man far older than his years...

It was a simple thing, a beautiful thing, really... Just looking at it with the naked eye, no one would ever know its greatest talent. They'd never guess the horrible, twisted things he could do with it that came to him more naturally than breathing. Being such an exceptional instrument, it really was too bad he'd stained it so many times. He did wonder now and then just how much blood he had on that hand and its twin. He couldn't even remember the number of lives he owed to God, because he'd long since forced himself to stop keeping track. Depressing really, thinking about how much suffering he would need to receive just to repay a fraction of the debt mounting on the shoulders of his soul. If he even had a soul...

"Maybe I should cut it off," he opined, thinking out loud as he continued his intent study.

The beast growled, sounding displeased. _Why would you do that? Do you really want to make yourself weaker than you already are? And don't try to change the subject...you know what we're really talking about, Conte..._

Dom merely chuckled, his eyes still focused on his flexing fingers as he turned his hand into a fist long practiced in the art of destruction. "No one would fuck with me if I cut it off myself. No one messes with a guy _that_ crazy. It would be a...challenge... I think I could do it. And maybe the blood would go with it... Maybe I'd get to start over."

_Maybe you're a loony-toon sitting around talking to yourself. Just think about how much happier you'd be if you'd stop fighting, knock off this 'control' bullshit. You were never in control and you never will be. Everyone sees through you in the end. ___

She will too.

Again he shifted, bringing one arm up to rest behind his head as he took up staring at the ceiling. "Jack's not like most girls."

_Bull. There ain't nothing romantic about the sick shit you did. You ain't no Richard B. Riddick, Domy. You're cold. You like it. It's in your blood. How long until she would start asking questions? When you'd start disappearing for days, weeks at a time? When she'd catch you staring at other women? When she'd catch you lying? White picket fence and a handful of rug rats, my ass. What DO you smoke when I'm not around, Conte?_

He nearly snorted with laughter, raising an arm briefly before letting his palm come to rest on his toned, bare stomach, just above his beltline. "You're just pissed cause it's too damn hot for you to make any progress trying to mind fuck me tonight. Why don't you do us both a favor and go chase a ball of string around your cage or something and shut up for a while? I got stuff to do," he mused, letting his fingers trail teasingly across the glistening, sensitive skin well below his belly button.

_Yeah? Like what?_

Dom smirked wickedly, watching as his hand slid slowly under his loosened belt and down the front of his pants. A contented look took him over as he forced himself to relax and enjoy the restrictive fit of his cargos before they got too uncomfortable.

Back when he was in slam he'd seen all sorts of shrinks that told him such behavior wasn't healthy. It was a fallback, a ridiculous method of self-comfort left over from his pre-teen days in Juvy when it'd been his _only_ comfort. They'd told him that it was seen often in boys like him who'd been thrown off the truck at a young age, and from there had proceeded to slip through the cracks. Just like everything else, he used it as a tool, as a crutch to keep himself together. And just like everything else, sex in any form was an experience that in spite of all appearances, he could never truly bring himself to share with another person.

In other words, it was just another sign that he was a complete sociopath, and nothing would ever make him better. Sometimes he wondered if that should worry him. But then again, he'd always figured that he'd have plenty of time to worry when he was dead. 


	40. Skelter

Jack was almost positive that she'd never had a better Monday in her life. She'd said good-bye to one half-awake Riddick when he'd dropped her off at school early that morning, and then she'd proceeded to let the day fly past her as she floated along in a state of near-bliss.

It was a perfect day. Blue skies, lots of sunshine. The only real blip on the radar came at lunch, when Jack learned of the rumor that Hope Anderson had essentially been institutionalized in the past few days because she'd suffered extensive brain damage from near-suffocation. She was unable to speak, seemed unresponsive to most stimuli, and struggled mindlessly when people tried to help her with normal, every day tasks. And since her parents weren't willing to stay home from their jobs and take care of her, she was going to be transferred to an assisted living facility.

That was what they were saying, anyway...

For the briefest of moments, Jack felt a wash of pity run through her when she heard the news, and she wondered if Hope had really deserved such a severe breakdown at such a young age. But then again, there was always that voice in the back of her mind that reminded her that the weak didn't always make it. Sure, she'd never been raped. But before she'd escaped T2, her life hadn't exactly been a basket full of peaches. None of it had killed her, and while she couldn't exactly say that it had made her stronger either, she hadn't broken. She'd survived on less than Hope had ever had, and if the girl couldn't take the life she'd built for herself at a time when she was still somewhat sheltered from the real world, then she'd be needing all the assisted living she could get.

Jack didn't dwell long on depressing thoughts of her former friend's wasted life. As long as she was getting Riddick back, she really couldn't bring herself to honestly care about the fate of someone who might or might not have betrayed her.

* * *

She got home relatively late that evening, after Riddick. She'd been shopping for real food at a local grocery store, and was rather pleased with her purchases.

Easing Rick back into being comfortable with himself wasn't going to be any sort of walk in the park, Jack knew that. Yet, as if she'd expected him to be much improved already, she found herself to be a bit disappointed to see him still looking down and out, sitting in front of the TV in a dark living room, alone. There wasn't a single light on in the house, and even though his head didn't snap around the moment she walked in the front door, she knew he was wearing his contacts. He wasn't ready to let go of the safety they provided him.

There was just something about the way he was sitting on the couch, somewhat slumped over to one side, tension built up between his shoulder blades. He looked so miserable, and again, she found herself questioning her choice.

"Riddick," she said softly, hoping she wouldn't startle him.

If he hadn't known she was there, he gave no indication. But at the same time, he didn't turn to face her. Just when she was about to give him his peace, his voice rumbled through the darkness like faraway thunder. "I was thinking tonight that maybe I should find her."

His words nearly froze her heart in her chest. Why the hell would he think that? "Why would you do that, Rick? She lied to you..."

He got to his feet suddenly, still not turning to face her as he began to pace in agitation. "I know, I know she did. She lied to me about a lot of things. But what if being pregnant with me wasn't one of them? It's just that, things happen. Unexplainable things. What if this was one of those things?"

Jack let her book bag and her eyes drop to the floor. "Listen, Riddick, I think she's lying. I think she's lying about the whole thing. I don't think that Shella got pregnant at all. I think she just said she did to try to get me out of the house. And besides, I sort of followed her once, to this place, after I heard her talking on the phone with this guy. She seemed to think that whatever she had to talk to him about was going to drive you away, and maybe that was it. Maybe she cheated with him and she didn't want you to know about it," she suggested softly, then quickly decided to backpedal. "But no matter what's happening, you don't have to worry about it right now. If she shows up with proof, there will always be time for you to take a paternity test. She won't, but if she does, we'll figure something out. For right now, all you can do is relax and try to focus on sorting out your own baggage. Now come help me make dinner. I really think you're going to like it."

She turned to go, grocery bag still cradled carefully in her arms when he called after her, stopping her once again. "Jack, if I was just Riddick, what would I say right now? What would I do?" he asked carefully, sounding almost as lost as he had the previous evening.

_Gonna be a long, uphill battle, Jackie. I sure hope you're strong enough to take it._

She didn't turn to look at him when she spoke, knowing her eyes would betray her even in the dim lighting. "Riddick would've said, 'Fuck the stupid bitch.' But I have no idea if he really would've meant it."

She turned just in time to see him nod, but she couldn't tell if he was agreeing with her assessment or simply taking it into consideration. She continued to watch in silence until he at last sat back down on the couch, his head down, hands dangling between his knees.

"I think you're right, kid. I think that I would've said 'fuck her' back in the day. It just seems like I've been living as Rick Costello forever, and Richard B. Riddick was someone I knew a lifetime ago... You know, Jack, all that stuff they say about life being hard as a criminal, it's a bunch of bullshit. Being a criminal is the easiest thing in the world. All you've got to do is eat, sleep, and keep a pair of eyes in the back of your head. Just do that every day and you've got it made, no matter what. Survival of the fittest is the one thing that no one has to teach you how to do, you're just born with the instincts... Shit doesn't get complicated until you start involving other people, commitment, social groups. Then you've got to learn everything from scratch, cause nothing is the way that you were born believing it should be..." he trailed off.

Jack found that she'd been inching toward him subconsciously, and decided to put down her groceries on a near-by coffee table and then continued on her slow path around the couch, listening intently as Rick continued to explore his inner turmoil out loud, so she could hear it, and possibly come to understand him more completely. She was sure that on his own, Riddick never would've bothered with needing _anyone_ to understand him.

After a few seconds of collecting his thoughts while his eyes remained firmly fixed on the wall straight ahead of him in what looked to Jack like a slight daze, he finally went on, expanding on his previous monologue. "For me, killing always came naturally. Kill an animal for food, no one cares much. Kill another man for trying to screw with you, they throw you in prison cause you can't play nice with the other dogs. People who grow up with nice parents, a good family, they have no idea what it's like trying to learn some of those more crucial life lessons at twelve or eighteen or twenty one, instead of having them drilled into you from the moment you come home from the hospital. That's what I used to tell myself, that's how I excused not having to follow the law like everyone else. I didn't know any better. No one had taught me the difference between right, wrong, and doing what it took to keep myself out of the dirt. My life was being threatened so often, I could never tell when it wasn't. When things would've been just fine, if I'd only let some little thing go. But I'd been living like that for so long, walking that same line, that I always knew what I was doing. And right now, I gotta say that I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing. Not in this house, not with a girlfriend, not with my job. Seems like you're just about the only thing I get anymore, Jackie girl. You're the only thing that hasn't changed."

At last Jack stood in front of him, but it wasn't until her hands came to rest softly on his shoulders that Riddick actually seemed to be able to see her standing over him. She bit her lip, looking deep into those false, brown eyes, and thinking that she'd never seen emotion in them before, never seen the vulnerability that was present at that moment. And for a mere fraction of a second, the thought that they never could've possibly been together for an extended period of time as long as he'd been stuck in a world where he had no use for anyone but himself flashed through her mind.

He needed her to help him, help him adjust to being human. He would never be able to fit on his own without her guidance. He needed her experience with other people, he needed her to show him how to behave in order to survive something far worse than prison or mercs.

She had to show him how to survive society.

"I promise that someday, Riddick, you'll be comfortable with yourself again. And not only will you regain the confidence you had as a convict, you'll have it as a man who doesn't have to run from anything. It'll take time, but we'll get there, together. Okay?" she tried to assure him, tightening her grip slightly on him for emphasis.

He nodded slightly, placing his hands over hers and gently lifting them off his shoulders and holding them together in front of him, squeezing softly before he stood and meandered reluctantly after her as Jack pulled him by both wrists toward the kitchen.


	41. Say Cheesy

AN: Eee, sorry it took so long! Work and summer classes have had me running around like crazy. I've also been spending some time on a couple of other projects that have sprung up lately. Anyways, please review and thanks for being so patient with me!

* * *

"What is it?" he asked, poking at the thing on his plate with a fork.

Jack could barely keep herself from snickering as she sat down across from him, picking up her cloth napkin and smoothing it over her lap as an excuse to keep her eyes off of him. She just knew that if she caught even a glimpse of the look on his face she'd probably burst into hysterics.

"Well, in most places, they call it a cheeseburger. Seriously, don't tell me you've never heard of a hamburger before, Riddick," she teased, glad to see him at least putting on the face of a good humor.

"Sure I've heard of them, I just don't remember if I've ever had one. At least not one that looked like that. Wait a minute...don't burgers have pork in them or something?" he asked, raising one eyebrow at her with semi-serious suspicion etched on his face.

"Cow, actually," she responded after clearing her throat and in as dignified a tone as she could manage after recovering from a short laughing fit.

He shrugged. "Cow, whatever. Sorry, Jack. It looks good, but I just don't think I can eat it," he said, pushing his plate away as a sign of rejection.

Jack merely shrugged, her left shoulder rising slightly and falling in devil-may-care style. "All right, then I'll eat it," she said, scooping up his burger and placing it next to her own on her plate.

She'd very deliberately been sure to only make two hamburgers for them to eat for dinner. When Rick refused to eat his, that left him with nothing, no backup plan. He just had to sit there in his two hundred twenty plus pound glory with his arms crossed over his chest and watch as she began to take large, exaggerated bites out of her sandwich, clearly enjoying each and every one.

She paused, putting the burger down to take a drink of water to wash down her last oversized bite. "Usually, I hate my own cooking. But I gotta say, I do make one damn fine burger. So tasty, so juicy..." she trailed off, grinning stupidly.

Riddick merely shook his head. "You're not fooling me, Jack. I know what you're trying to do."

"I never said you were stupid, Ricky. I just was hoping it would sink in at some point that I'm sitting here chomping on this delicious piece of meat and your ex isn't around to cuss me out over it because she's _gone_," Jack said pointedly, again picking up her sandwich and taking a large bite out of it. "What good do you think it'll do you to stay loyal to the lifestyle she imposed on you, anyway? I knew you before she got her claws in you and there was nothing you loved more than a half-raw steak. So dig in. If she's going to make you miserable, you might as well enjoy what little you can for the time being."

He shrugged, and after another moment or two of attempting to sit there and look like he didn't have a care in the world, Riddick rather suddenly reached over and snatched back his sandwich, taking a large bite out of it and then setting it down on his plate.

"Happy?" he asked, a slight bulge in one cheek.

Jack shrugged, trying to keep her almost-overwhelming glee under wraps. "I will be once you admit that it's the best burger you've ever tasted," she prodded, a grin slowly spreading across her face.

Riddick snorted. "You've got ketchup on your face," he replied nonchalantly. He burst out laughing when a look of horror flashed in her eyes and she scrambled to grab the napkin still sitting in her lap.

* * *

The recovery progressed slowly, but with each day that passed things seemed to improve. On Tuesday night they practiced some of Riddick's old favorite swearing combos so he could use them on his pushy coworkers and slave driver of a supervisor. Rather suddenly he'd begun to inform Jack that he couldn't stand their company, and she quickly began to gather that he couldn't for the figure out for the life of him why he'd put up with them for so long. No salary was worth so much hassle.

Jack found it incredibly interesting that he seemed oblivious to the fact that he'd been drugged for years. She wondered often if he was purposely denying the fact to himself, or if he was trying not to dwell on it.

Wednesday morning Jack found Rick in the basement, working out on a punching bag that didn't look like it had seen use in ages. It had made her smile. On more than one occasion when she was younger she'd forced herself to get up early enough to work out with Riddick. She'd learned a lot, and she hoped that soon they could perhaps take up right where they'd left off, and not just when it came to exercise.

On Thursday morning she forced herself out of bed an hour early so she could join in on his freshly reacquired routine. They did sit ups, pushups, some cardio work. Getting her blood pumping and good company made an excellent combination for a workout. They were horsing around with each other and joking freely by the time they made their way out of the basement and got started on breakfast. Jack couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun.

She requested the traditional sausage and eggs for breakfast, and Riddick obliged, taking his turn at cooking since she'd prepared dinner the night before. After setting the table, Jack sat down, stretching her arms far above her head and yawning a bit before pulling the morning paper toward her so she could skim the front page.

She blinked hard at the top headline, hardly able to believe what it said.

_Con-X MO Used in High School Slayings_

"Uh, Riddick..." she said nervously. "You'd better come look at this."


	42. Duct Tape

AN: Yea, a relatively long chapter!

* * *

"_Soo_," Jack said, cocking her head a bit as she stared down at unfolded paper. "That's the new Con-X."

From his seat next to her, Riddick made an affirmative-sounding grunt as he also stared down at the article that was front page news.

They sat in silence for a moment before Jack crossed her arms over her chest, shivering slightly and not at all because she was cold. "Man is he creepy. Sure wouldn't want to run into him in any dark alleyways."

"Or anywhere else, from what it says in here about him," Riddick commented vaguely.

The 'him' in question was a mug shot of the new Con-X, better known as _Le Diable Angélique_ or 'The Angelic Demon,' as he'd been named in the outreaching French colonies where he'd done the larger portion of his identified work. According to the article his real name was unknown and he'd only just been crowned the new reigning Con-X over the past week or two, when neighboring systems had finally pieced together portions of a trail of criminal activity that spread over a vast expanse of the galaxy.

However, the descriptions of his grizzly crimes in print didn't do justice to the black and white photo of him. Stringy, shoulder length blonde hair hung down far enough to partially obscure a face ugly and twisted with murderous rage. Two coal black eyes seemed to look out from the picture and pierce right through to the soul of even the most casual of onlookers. The man looked like some sort of devil. From the moment Jack saw that face she knew that if anyone ever asked her what evil looked like, she'd point them to that photo.

"Must've killed the photographer," Riddick rumbled thoughtfully, almost as if he were talking to himself.

"Who, him?" Jack asked, puzzled. "What makes you say that?"

With one finger, Riddick tapped on the man's face. "They don't let you get away with that shit. Ducking your head so the picture's obscured. When they put this out on wanted posters nobody's going to recognize this guy because they can't get a good image in their head of what he looks like. The points of his face that would make him stand out in a crowd are either in shadow or covered by his hair. After they snapped that shot he probably freaked out, got free, and killed the guy behind the camera. After that happens once, who the hell is getting paid enough to risk their lives for a re-shoot?"

"You know anyone who ever got away with that?" Jack asked.

Riddick shook his head. "No. But then again, I didn't ever meet a guy like _that_ one."

"That one?" Jack repeated slowly, not quite sure what he was getting at.

Crossing his arms over his own chest, Riddick nodded. "Yeah, like him. He's not even close to being human. The eyes give it away. They're so dark you can hardly tell, but when you look close enough, you can see that he doesn't have pupils. If you saw that guy in a dark alley it would look like he didn't have eyes at all, just a couple black holes with no whites. The rims of his irises expand and contract, taking in light in a full circle instead at a single point. He'd never need a shine job in prison. As long as there's some small shred of light, they say that a Rysen can see everything."

Jack blinked dumbly at him, as if she couldn't quite believe what he'd just said. "What's a Rysen?" she asked, feeling stupid for knowing so little. She'd recently become fond of being the criminal expert among her small group of friends at school and she found it difficult to admit that she didn't know half as much as she'd like to think she did.

"No one really knows for sure," he replied, slowly stirring the coffee in front of him even though he had yet to take an evident interest in drinking it. "Some people say the Rysen got split off from humans millennia ago, others think that they're so similar to us because they developed on a planet very much like Earth. Mostly they're ghosts. They were a proud race, an arrogant race, and they were very, very deadly. That's why the Empire wiped them out first, because they were afraid that they would take over. The total population of their home world was exterminated years ago, all of two billion of 'em."

Jack wrinkled her nose, slightly confused by what she was hearing. "What, you're saying that the Empire was afraid that a race that only consisted of two billion people were going to overthrow their power? There are like fifty billion humans and close-subspecies humans accounted for. What was the threat?"

Riddick shifted in his chair, resting more of his weight on the back two legs as he tipped himself into a precarious position. "Let's just say that in places like Slam, where the worst of the worst congregate together, guys like _that_ used to be what went 'bump' in the night. They held no loyalties, killed whoever they wanted because they were immune to the crime guilds and the gangs. The bosses didn't want anything to do with them, mostly just tried to stay clear of them. They say that even the females were downright frightening. Never ran into a Rysen girl myself, but strangely enough I always kept an eye out, just in case," he said, grinning evilly at the recollection.

"So, there were a lot of survivors of the extermination? Some of the kids were kept in the numbered prisons like other species that were wiped out?" Jack asked, remembering back to the conversation she'd had with Dom about the orphans of the Fifty Twenty War.

"That's the story. In reality they probably slaughtered as many as they could find and incinerated the bodies to cover it up. When those kids got to a certain age, walls and chains simply wouldn't hold them. They would escape, and usually they didn't go far. Had a bad habit of sticking around the place where they'd been imprisoned and mind-fucked with the guards. Sometimes they'd pick them off one by one, using scare tactics that make most of the horror movies you've seen look tame. I studied a few of them when I was your age, learned a lot of interesting things about how to put the fear of God into a man."

Jack stretched forward, covering the face of the man staring up at her from the newspaper with her thumb, so she wouldn't have to look at him anymore. "So what do I do if I run into him? You know he may be the person who's been killing those boys in my class, hunting them down and slaughtering them. I think he's probably a professional."

"He's better than a professional, Jack," Riddick rumbled appreciatively, lacing his fingers behind his head. "He's a predator. Just keep him convinced that you'd be tougher prey than the next guy and you should be fine."

"What if I'm not?" she asked meekly. Jack hated to admit it, but actually putting a face to the murderer running around town had freaked her out, a lot.

Riddick shrugged. "In that case, fight like your life depends on it. Because believe me, it would."

Jack rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'll bet it would. So, if he's such a nasty guy, why do they call him 'The Angelic Demon?' He sure doesn't look like any sort of angel."

Riddick allowed his chair to return to its usual position with all four legs on the floor and picked up the paper, sliding it out from under her thumb and opening it to the sports section, folding it over neatly. "I have no idea. But usually I go by the rule that if the new French colonies had something to do with it, the last thing it's gonna do is make sense."

* * *

_"...Parent-teacher conferences will take place Friday morning and afternoon, so there will be no school. I repeat, there will be NO school tomorrow..."_ the voice of one of the secretaries blared over the loudspeakers.

Jack smiled a little as she packed up her books from her last class of the day and filed with the rest of the students out the door and into the hall. Her friends had told her at lunch that the announcement had been broadcast over the intercom a million times that week, and they absolutely couldn't understand what exactly was so important at home that it had kept her from realizing such a monumental event as a three day weekend was fast approaching. As far as she was concerned, it didn't matter how long it had taken her to realize the fact. No school was no school.

She'd have the whole day to herself.

When she opened her locker a note fell out. Jack picked it up, at first assuming that it was just some random piece of scratch paper, then realizing that there was writing on the inside. She opened it, glowing a little while reading it.

_Hey baby-doll, __  
__Been missin you lately. Since you don't have school tomorrow maybe you should come over to my place, what'd ya think? __  
__Can't wait to see you, __  
__Dom _

_PS – What animal turns bright red when it gets really mad? Check out the gym and you'll find out._

Jack looked up and around, wondering when he'd been there, how long it had been since he'd left. It had probably only been a matter of seconds, after the announcement had played on the comm system. There hadn't been a note there when she'd closed her locker before the final period of the day.

Still, even if he was playing hard-to-get that day, she figured she could play along, for a while at least... Her first stop? The gymnasium.

* * *

She was tentative in walking into the deserted gym. Where during the day kids ran around playing various sports, shouting and laughing, there was nothing but silence and darkness. Jack flicked the lights as she walked in the door, and slowly the overheads started to warm up, casting low light over the large exercise area.

There was nothing there. The place seemed empty, and eerily quiet. "Hello?" Jack called, knowing how much Dom liked playing games with her. She figured he'd reveal himself at any second and then just maybe they'd take the time to steal away to the broom closet down the hall.

She was snickering to herself as she look under the bleachers, then started toward the side door, as if to leave. "Well, I guess there's no one here. Better be getting home..." she said, speaking at a conversational tone. She was smirking, figuring that it wouldn't be long before he chased her down when she heard muffled groans from somewhere nearby.

Jack paused in the door way, looking around. Slowly, her brows began to knit with concern. It sounded like someone was in trouble, or in pain, but where were they? Why couldn't she see them?

She circled, calling out again before she heard scratching, the sound of something rubbing against wood. Quietly she re-approached the doorway and, almost dreading what she would find, Jack tentatively reached out, kicking up the stand and pulling the door toward her, so it would close. Behind it she found what might've been the most disturbing sight she'd ever seen in her entire life.

But it also just happened to be the funniest one too.

Shane Connell had been stripped down to his underwear and duct taped to the wall, his feet nearly half a meter off the ground. He was squirming and groaning, his face having turned a bright red to match his hair.

After a moment of staring at him, Jack started to snicker. Soon she found herself chuckling. By the time someone else stumbled upon the scene she was rolling on the floor, completely engulfed by side-splitting laughter.

* * *

All the way home she'd been bursting into aftershock-giggles, still able to picture perfectly the look on Big Red's face when the janitors had finally found a box for him to stand on as they'd cut him down. The duct tape on his mouth had been the last to go, and once it was off, the cussing fit had begun.

He'd been walking through the gym, the lights had gone dead, and the next thing he'd known someone had grabbed him. That was Shane's story, and as far as Jack could tell, she was the only one who knew who that 'someone' might've been.

As she walked in the front door of Riddick's house she was smiling, hardly able to wait to tell Rick what had happened at school, minus a few details of course... She was even humming to herself just a little bit as she locked the door behind her and dropped her book bag on the stairs, making her way toward the living room.

Just as she turned the corner, wondering if anything good was on the vid that afternoon, she was brought up short by a sharp impact to her midsection. She halted immediately in the doorway between the hall and living room, the air in her lungs having been knocked out by the suddenness, the unexpectedness...

She looked down, touching the light fabric of her favorite shirt. It was a dark green that set off her eyes perfectly. However, even as she watched, a dark red stain was spreading downward, ruining it.

Funny, all she could think about was how she didn't think she'd be able to get that out, no matter how hard she scrubbed.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered softly, even as she brought some of the red liquid on her fingers closer to her face so she could examine it, her eyes crossing slightly with the effort.

"I'm sorry, Riddick..."


	43. Redecorating

AN: Sheesh, that took half of forever. I don't think the next chap will be quite so far off. Sorry about the wait.

* * *

"I'm sorry Riddick--but I'm going to have to seriously kick your ass! This is my favorite fucking shirt!" Jack griped loudly, placing her fists on her hips and glaring in the general direction of the couch. "Never mind the fact that you scared the shit out of me!"

Finally Riddick stood up, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, a paintball gun held easily in one hand. "Ah, come on, Jackie girl. Don't get mad," he said, taking a moment to toss her a similar weapon. "Get even."

Jack caught the offering, and immediately went about cocking it. "Sounds good," she said, slight venom coating her words. Riddick's smile slipped, just a bit, and for a second she wondered if he'd just realized that she was pissed _and_ she knew how to use his new toy.

"Just one other thing, Jack," he added, slowly stalking around the couch and toward her, a helmet in hand. He thumped the large piece of safety equipment down onto her head, to her slight displeasure. She didn't even want to think about what sort of a picture she made with her hair all over her face in the hot, uncomfortable, _thing_ she suddenly wore.

After a second of pause she pulled the helmet off and placed it on an end table sitting next to her, smoothing back her hair with the hand she wasn't holding her paintball gun with. "Why do I have to wear a helmet?" she asked, only slightly less angry than she'd been a moment before.

Riddick shrugged. "Only bought one and I figured your looks might actually be worth saving. Now close your eyes and count to thirty. We'll play recon style."

"In the house?" she questioned, her eyes widening and the look on her face one of disbelief.

The question earned her another shrug from Rick. "Sure, why not? I was thinking that I need to do some redecorating..." he said, his silvery gaze traveling along the pink walls of his living room.

Jack grunted something of an affirmative. "Okay, it's your place. Just one more question before we get started. Why are you home so early today? It's not even Friday."

Riddick smirked, turning slowly to walk out of the room. "I cussed out my boss for being incompetent and then I quit before he could fire me. Now start counting, and close your damn eyes, kid!"

* * *

Still covered in paint they finally settled down to a dinner of brats and beer. Riddick tried to tell Jack she was going to drink milk with the meal, but her glare and the gun she pointed at his face quickly changed his mind. 

For their evening entertainment they sat on the couch, shooting knick-knacks off the mantel. A single miss for Riddick meant he had to take a shot of tequila, three misses for Jack meant the same so they got drunk at approximately the same rate.

"You know, now that you don't have a job anymore, we really should probably think about what we're gonna do," Jack commented before ghosting a gnome.

"What do you mean?" Riddick asked, blasting a china dancer into a million pieces.

Jack shrugged. "I don't know, I was thinking that if you wanted to, we could maybe move closer to Imam. I sort of miss him, a lot," she said morosely, suddenly sad she'd brought the subject up. They'd had a wonderful evening thus far and thinking about her adoptive father sank her spirits in a hurry.

"You'd need to finish the school term here, wouldn't you?" he asked quietly, seeming to sense the fall in her mood.

She nodded. "Yeah, but during the break I can go visit him at least, right?"

Riddick sighed, reloading his 'lethal weapon.' "Actually, moving to New Mecca might not be such a bad idea. It'd be a chance to start over, again. Maybe for once I'd actually start a life and not fuck it up..."

"Well, this one isn't a complete fuck-up yet," she told him, taking aim and knocking yet another gnome off the line. "You still have me, so it can't be all bad. Although that whole ruining my favorite shirt thing, dangerous thing to be doin' with a girl..."

"Didn't think you were like most girls, Jack," he interjected, his grin turning cheesy.

Jack pretended to huff, her eyes glinting wickedly. "I'm enough of a girl these days that some guys actually notice. Even if certain parties still think of me as a thirteen year old who shaved her head..."

Riddick took a random shot in the general direction of the fireplace, missed, and set his gun down in order to pour himself a drink. "What, you think I didn't notice? The second I saw you at the port I fuckin' noticed. Voice slightly lower, curves, semi-feminine clothing. Mood swings..." he pointed out slyly, taking a shot and then pouring himself another.

Jack's eyes narrowed distinctly. "You sayin' I get PMS, Sir Shivs A lot?"

He reached over and tugged gently on her ponytail. "I'm sayin' you've got spunk," he corrected, propping his feet up on the coffee table, allowing his arm to rest across the back of the couch behind her head. "Too much for my tastes, maybe, but apparently not for what's-his-name. Daryl?"

"Dom," Jack supplied, allowing herself a small snicker. For the second time in the last few weeks she wondered if Riddick could possibly be jealous of Dom. Why else would he play at having forgotten the name of her supposed 'boyfriend' _again_? Perhaps he meant the gesture in a 'protective older brother' sort of fashion? Either way, she decided to enjoy it.

"Yeah, that's it," Riddick rumbled with mock-pleasantness. "Dom. The twenty three year old claiming to be seventeen."

"He is seventeen," she informed him, pouring herself a drink and preparing to down it.

"Has a lot of balls for a seventeen year old, even for a runaway seventeen year old."

Jack smirked. "Sounds like you don't like him," she said before taking the shot.

Riddick smiled back at her, the steady drinking pace he'd kept up all evening hardly showing yet. His fingertips played lazily with the tag on the back of her t-shirt. "Kid just seems too damn slick for his own good, coming up with a story on the spot about taking you to the doctor after you got hit with a date rape drug. He tell you if he's done time?"

She nodded, secretly wishing he'd never stop the new friendly touches to her hair and back of her neck. "Yeah, he did. Some juvy and a stint in one of the numbered slams. All in all he's pretty straight with me about that stuff."

Riddick gaffed. "Sure he is. Why not? He's got nothing to lose."

"That a good enough reason to dump his ass?"

"It's close."

"I like him."

"That's part's natural. He's a good looking boy, you're a good looking girl. Still doesn't take away from the fact that I've got a bad feeling about him."

Jack shrugged. "If you're having feelings of your own that's probably a good sign. I'd better not take it for granted, huh?"

Riddick ruffled her hair before heaving himself up off the couch. "Got that right, Squirt. Think I'm gonna turn in for the night. You wanna hold down the fort until morning?"

"With this?" Jack asked, loosely holding up her paintball gun with two fingers.

Riddick shrugged, walking backward with arms extended, his palms facing the ceiling. "Sure, why not? Far as I can tell you're a force to be reckoned with, Jackie girl. I can sleep just fine knowing you're right down the hall, watching out for me. My own guardian angel." He grinned at her shamelessly and blew her a kiss before turning to go.

Strangely enough, Jack found herself blushing and her heart pounding long after he'd finished bidding her good-night.


	44. If Ya Slip

AN: Well, at least it didn't take a month, right?

* * *

As soon as the ship's ramp lowered Jack threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and laughing. She'd meant to say hello, but somehow it hadn't gone exactly to plan...

"Thank you so much, I couldn't have done it, umf," she cut off when Dom kissed her, finding herself amazingly short of breath all of a sudden. Without conscious thought a small groan escaped her. Her body quickly relaxed into the familiar feeling of his and she didn't protest in the least when he turned and carried her into the depths of his ship.

"So I take it he's doing good," he commented raggedly when they briefly broke apart for air.

Jack nodded, her fingertips stroking the light stubble on each side of his strong jaw. "Uh, huh, he's great," she agreed, pulling him closer so she could kiss him again.

He was aggressive, wild, and just the way he could hold up her tall frame as if she weighed nothing told her all she needed to know about his strength. His palms were running up and down her sides, advancing and retreating, squeezing in all the right places.

Jack dug her fingers into his thick black hair, loving the softness of it, feeling it just as she felt his hard stomach between her thighs. She wrapped tighter around him, grabbing at his powerful shoulders when she suddenly seemed to fall, only to find she'd made a controlled landing on the couch. Dom joined her a second later, placing one knee between her legs before letting some of his weight come to rest on top of her. Before she knew it he'd made quick work of her jacket and his teeth were gently sinking into her collarbone.

Another groan escaped her lips, all her muscles clenched and relaxed before tightening again. Shivers went down her spine when Dom's hand found her right breast through her t-shirt and began to knead it. His mouth still worked along the column of her throat. The hot feel of his tongue and teeth on that sensitive skin followed closely by cool air blown softly in their wake did things to her body that no fantasy ever had.

Lord was he experienced. Jack had no idea how she was going to make him tremble and gasp in return.

_"I'm not going to tell you never to have sexual relations with a man, Jacqueline. I will not force you to adopt my religion or my beliefs. You are not my child to badger and command. I merely leave you with this: In all my time as a 'holy man' as you so fondly call me, I have done much counseling of those who have taken for granted the sacredness of such relations. I have yet to meet a female of such a nature without a sad story to tell. _

_"It isn't easy to look into a teenaged girl's eyes and see such horrible heartbreak. Or even into a married woman's eyes and see such wrenching shame or scorn. Hardship, anguish, hatred. I do not prophesize these things, I have seen them. I ask you to choose wisely, Jack, because I do not wish to see you unhappy or worse--broken."_

_Imam's a million miles away and you still can't get him out of your head when you're being naughty, Jackie? Come on, give me a break. What's the problem?_

What was the problem? She cared for Dom, deeply. She'd liked him since the moment she'd met him. He turned her on no problem. Why the doubt?

_Because, you just realized he's done this a hundred times. Taking your virginity won't even be a notch on his belt. Heh, more like a stitch in his boxers... He could be gone tomorrow and you'd never see him again..._

At that moment he pulled away from the hot kiss they'd just been sharing and straightened up, his powerful body towering over her prone form. The way he looked down at her, breathing hard, eyes half closed, it almost took her breath away. Especially when he reached over his shoulder and grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling it smoothly over his head and then tossing it away, revealing one of the most gorgeous torsos she'd ever seen.

Hesitantly she reached out, feeling the warmth of his stomach under one set of fingers and then under all ten. She splayed her hands across his belly, taking in all the sleek curves of muscle. His abs never wavered under her touch, not even when she brushed down them feather-light, in an attempt to find out if he was ticklish. He grunted a little, almost like an animal when her explorations neared his low-slung beltline. For the first time she noticed his jeans were becoming tight on him. _Very_ tight, from the appearance of things.

_You ARE in trouble now, Jackie girl. And it looks like BIG trouble._

His pleasantly warm hands settled over hers and slowly he entangled their fingers together, shooting her a small devil-may-care smile. "Think it's time to get you outta some o' those clothes, babe," he said, his half-lidded gaze locking with hers.

_Say it, say it! Shit, Jackie, this is your only shot! Two more seconds and you'll be cooked!_

He leaned down and kissed her again, using her own hands to work her shirt up and expose her to him. Jack let go, allowing his hands to continue their journey north alone before she let her arms wrap around his neck after a half second of hesitation. He didn't seem to notice. She wanted him to, but he didn't seem to realize she was having doubts...

Yeah, like playing tonsil hockey with him really sent the right signals...

"Incoming urgent message. Incoming urgent message," the female voice of the ship's computer informed them.

Dom swore against her mouth, collapsing on top her for a brief moment before taking his weight on his elbows. "Shit, I've gotta take it, it might be my boss," he said, rolling his eyes. After a second he cocked his head slightly to one side. "You okay?" he asked, his look suddenly turning to one of concern.

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I'll be right here when you get back."

_If I don't bolt for the door the second you're out of my sight..._

He smiled at her so genuinely it made her heart ache a little. She didn't exactly have to force herself to enjoy the energetic little kiss he gave her before he hopped up and over the back of the couch, walking off purposely to answer the call.

When she knew he was out of earshot she sighed heavily, straightening her shirt so it once again covered her midriff. Letting the heel of her palm rest against her forehead Jack tried to rebalance herself.

_Was it too fast? Did zero to 'oo-la' in ten seconds turn your stomach? Please don't tell me you're 'waiting' for someone special, Jack, because it just isn't true. You were always hot for Riddick, but never quite like this. Dom's your age. You love him..._

Did she? Could she honestly say she loved Dominic Conte? Well, she knew one thing, whatever deeply felt emotion she held for him, she knew for certain it wasn't mere childhood obsession. That counted hugely in his favor. With Riddick she couldn't always be sure...

_So tell him you're not ready. Dom's cool, he'll understand. Just go find him, explain that you got caught up in the heat of the moment and it's just not time yet._

She sighed again, forcing her body off the couch and rising to seek out her companion. She'd never gone beyond the ship's small entertaining area, she wasn't exactly sure of the cabin's location.

A light under a slightly open door caught her attention and she walked toward it, still deep in thought. Still debating when she pushed open the door it took her a moment to realize the room was empty of human presence. Instead of the forward cabin she expected instead she found a small work room. A table sitting in the center of the room overflowed with small parts made of various metals and plastics.

_Heh, must be where he builds his more explosive toys._

Jack carefully avoided touching anything on that table, not wanting to accidentally make herself go 'boom.'

From the wall on her left hung a virtual arsenal of firearms and blades. She'd known Dom packed heat, she'd never known he had such good taste in weaponry. As far as she could tell, not a single piece of his collection stood out as a cheap street-corner knockoff.

She whistled low with appreciation, turning to look at the other wall and see what goodies it contained. Her eyes immediately began to round, first with shock, and then slowly with horror.

Pictures, news articles. Pictures of her at school, at home, out with her friends. A whole mural dedicated solely to mapping out Riddick's daily life. There were even shots of Rick with Shella, and Shella with a man Jack didn't recognize. There were pictures of the strange man alone. And then, most frightening of all, the missing piece of the puzzle, were the news clippings. Apparently Dom had a virtual obsession with the crash of the Hunter Grazner. Especially with the survivors. The whole bloody scenario was pieced together right there on that wall from Riddick's escape from slam to the supposed burial of his body on T2. If she didn't know any better, she would've said Conte was engrossed with Richard B. Riddick.

He knew. He'd known all along.

Dom was a merc.

If he knew she'd seen this room, she'd never make it out of the ship alive. She was only good to him so long as she was useful in getting him close to his mark.

Jack silently turned and walked out of the room, looking both ways and finding the hall clear. She clicked off the light, leaving the door slightly ajar. She hurried back to the living area, being as quiet as she could and to her relief found the room completely empty. There was no sign of her temporary captor.

She sat down, her back stiff with fear. She'd made it, he'd never know she'd been in that room at all. Hell, why didn't she just make a break for it? Run home as fast as she could?

Because then he'd know. She'd seen what he could do in a fight. What if Riddick couldn't get them out in time? He couldn't stand up alone against the arsenal Dom was packing.

So she'd play it cool, pretend like she felt sick and excuse herself. He'd have to let her go then. There was no way he could possibly know she'd been in that room...

Jack's heart almost stopped.

She'd turned the light off, it'd been on when she'd found the door.

Could she make it back safely, or was it better not to risk it? What the fuck was she going to do?

Her breathing started turning rapid with panic. She began to whisper to herself, closing her eyes. "Jack B. Badd sat on a wall

Jack B. Badd had a great fall

And All the King's Horses, and All the King's Men

Could never put Jack back together again

Life's a real bitch, and that ain't no lie

But you'd better suck it up, Jackie girl

Cause if ya slip, you'll..." she swallowed hard, feeling the nervous sweat collecting at her brow. She tried to relax, tried to finish, but the words came out sounding choked. "Cause if ya slip, you'll..."

"_Die_," a low voice rumbled from the shadows behind her.

Jack's fingers clenched into fists and her green eyes flew open, widening with terror.


	45. Gotch Ya

AN: Since I've been told it's now against the rules at to respond to reviewers in an author's noteI will NOT take the time right now to thank all those awesome people out there reviewing this story. I won't tell them that their patience and support has been exceptionally motivational and I'm not sure where this story would be without them. I also won't tell them they totally rock. But--if they're 18or older and they start reading and responding over at an sweet site called www rhiana-griffith com/forums IS NOT against the rules to tell them that, I just might be so inclined.

* * *

"How did you know that was the word I was looking for?" she asked, forcing her voice to work, forcing herself to sound calm. If she freaked her life would end. 

"Hmm, I've been listening to you mumble that poem under your breath for weeks. Got it pretty much pieced it together. I like it, a lot. When did you make it up?" he asked, sounding very much at ease.

She swallowed, taking an even, measured breath. "My first night in a group home. I was eight. I said it like a prayer every day to remind myself..."

_Not to fall into traps. Some good it did you now, Jack._

She jumped half a foot when he vaulted over the back of the couch and landed beside her, just six inches away. Running no longer seemed plausible in an emergency.

"Sooo," he said, looking around like nothing in the least was wrong. "I guess I sort of freaked you out, coming on so strong like that, huh?"

Jack tried to consciously relax her muscles. He hadn't noticed. She had a chance unless he was just playing her.

"Yeah," she said, trying desperately to think of something to say in response. "It would be my first time and obviously you've done this before. I just sort of, I don't know... Made me stop and think."

Dom nodded, a sympathetic smile shaping his features. Jack's eyes narrowed fractionally. Damn he was good. Give him a freaking award for this acting performance. He deserved it, she hoped... Why hadn't she listened to Riddick about him? Even though he was still somewhat impaired, his instincts were bound to be far better than hers on the subject of young men.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I don't remember some of the girls either because I was too drunk or in too much of a hurry. I'd remember you forever, Jack, but there's no guarantee that one day you wouldn't just be another face in the crowd. You know the sort of life I lead. I've gotta live every free moment like it's my last, cause it might be. Might be the last of my life. I won't go back to prison. A morgue maybe, but not slam.

"You can't imagine how slowly a man dies in there, Jackie. Every day in there takes a year off your life. That's what they mean by burning a candle at both ends. Before you know it you're out of time, your light's gone out, and the scary things in the darkness start to close in for the kill," he said, his speech slowing and his stony blue eyes watching her like a hawk after prey.

Jack glanced at him briefly out of the corner of her eye.

_He knows. He knows you saw the articles from the crash._

_Time to do some fast thinking._

"So don't do anything with me you aren't comfortable doing, babe. I'll keep. Just relax, take a walk, do some thinking. I've gotta go to work soon anyway, so you'll have plenty of time. Maybe sometime later we'll hit a fast food place for a soda."

Jack nodded, forcing herself to swallow the cotton in her throat. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan. So, I guess I'll see you later?" she said, forcing herself to stand on shaky legs, willing them not to drop out from under her. She turned to back away from him, not wanting to be taken by surprise.

With her absence from the piece of furniture Dom had sprawled out across it, his arms stretching out to rest on the back of the couch. He looked like a big cat sitting there, a lazy smile on his face. "Yeah, babe, we'll chill. Tomorrow maybe. I'll stop by."

"Okay," Jack half-stammered, trying to smile and failing. She quickly turned and let herself out, too grateful to be allowed to escape the lion's den to wonder why.

* * *

When she was gone Dom sighed, getting up and fetching himself a brew from the kitchen. It really wasn't his style to leave so much of a job up in the air. To chance, almost. 

_You think this is a good idea, Domy boy? Letting her go like that?_ the beast questioned during his short beer run.

Dom shrugged, popping the cap off the bottle with his bare hands. "It's all part of plan B," he replied, taking a long slug of the bitter liquid before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Besides, if I don't start pulling some strings this thing'll drag out another three months. I just don't have that kind of time," he groaned, cracking his neck to each side.

_You know, she would've made a great lay._

"Probably."

_You didn't have to back out when you did. You seriously needed some action..._

"Don't fuck before the big fights. Bad for the balance," he reminded himself firmly, walking back out to the living room.

_All right, so what's next, cowboy? You still thinking about that big ending where you ride off into the sunset with the girl?_

Dom bent down to pick up the jacket he'd practically ripped off of Jack just a few short moments ago. He'd stuffed it under the couch when she left to look for him. He'd been watching her on a monitor from the pilot's seat in the main cabin. Her scent remained fresh on the material and he inhaled it, growling almost inaudibly.

"I think I could handle that," he said. "Just not so sure the girl could. It's not like she's been properly introduced to my wilder side. She might find out she's in _way_ too deep. But we'll see. _Soon_, we'll see..."


	46. Now You See Me

* * *

So Dom turned out to be a merc. A merc who packed heavier than the Terminator and could probably kick Rambo's ass. He'd let her see him the day after she arrived, that meant he'd been watching for some time, months even.

All he'd done so far was take pictures... Lots of pictures.

_He ain't no Johns, that's for sure. So what's his deal? Even if he's trying to take Riddick alive I'm sure he's had plenty of opportunity. He must know Rick's schedule inside out by now. Why's he holding back?_

Jack didn't know. She intended to find out.

* * *

Mike Daniels. Riddick said he knew him, the kid mowed his lawn. Jack hadn't given the name a second thought since the day Dom mentioned it, the day they'd met. He said he was a friend of Mike Daniels'. Instead of going straight home she'd stopped to look up which house served as the Daniels residence and then she'd gone over to have a nice long chat with Michael's poor mother.

Dead. Mike Daniels. Age seventeen. No body ever found, only several liters of his blood had marked his passing in the back alleys of the city not far from the high school. He'd died the previous spring. Whether or not Dom had done it, Jack knew for sure it wasn't a coincidence that the only person able to identify Dominic Conte prior to his arrival on Riddick's driveway that day so long ago turned out to be resting in pieces—somewhere...

She had to tell Riddick, immediately. They needed to be gone yesterday.

"Rick!" she shouted upon entering the house. She ran up the steps, finding herself almost frantic to find him. He had to know.

"In the living room, Jack," he shouted up after her. Jack froze, recognizing the tension in his tone. Something was wrong, and she had a feeling it wasn't just Riddick's probable hangover from the night before.

Her stomach in her throat she made her way back down the stairs and walked softly into the living room. Riddick stood, arms crossed over his chest, in the middle of the room just a mere number of feet from a relaxed looking Dominic Conte.

Dom turned, smiling when he saw her as if he couldn't sense the thick tension in the room. "Hey, Jackie. You forgot your coat over at my place, so I figured I'd bring it over."

She stepped forward reluctantly, taking the offering when he held it out to her. "You really didn't have to do that," she said coldly, staring him right in the eye.

He shrugged. "Didn't want my girl catching a cold. Need you healthy for next time," he replied, an evil glint in his gaze. "Trust me, you'll want to have all your strength. Won't she, Rick?" he asked, turning the same look on Riddick.

The old Con-X shifted uncomfortably, a glare coming to rest on the young man before him. Jack didn't know what had passed between the two men before she'd arrived, but she knew she needed to figure out what Dom was up to, and soon.

"Don't think I'm aware of what you're talking about," Riddick growled, the muscle in his jaw working far more than necessary.

Dom's smirk turned to a grin and he cocked his head a bit, fingering the set of shades hanging from his shirt collar before putting them on. "Oh, you know what I mean. I'm gonna fuck her," he said, glancing over at Jack. "Sooner or later. Figured you'd had her long enough. Time to get in on the hot action while it's there to be had."

Riddick's hands dropped to his sides, turning to white-knuckled fists. Veins started to stand out in his neck and forehead. "I don't know who you think you're fucking with, kid, but I don't play these games. Get the fuck out of my house," he snapped, his voice not quite betraying all the anger radiating from his body.

Dom pulled out a piece of gum, carefully unwrapping it as if nothing was at all wrong. "Yup, I'll bet it'll be real sweet. Not like that Shella bitch. No offense, she _was_ fun. I don't think I've been with a girl who liked it that rough in a long time. You're lucky to have that one, Rick. She really keeps it hot between the sheets. I just can't stand a woman who keeps complaining about how she wishes her boyfriend could heat her up like I can." His eyes flashed up to take in Riddick's reaction, the look on his face almost daring the man to try something.

By then Rick's face had nearly turned beet red. "Get out," he hissed. He'd obviously heard enough.

The question was, would Dom keep pushing?

"I really didn't expect a hard ass like her to be all sentimental though. I'll bet Jack won't cry after the second or third time in a night. She's tough for real, a respectable girl. I'll bet she won't beg me to stay when I try to leave the next morning either, like Shella did..."

Not in her wildest dreams could Jack have anticipated the next series of events. With a shout of anger and frustration Riddick's motions blurred as he lashed out, taking a hard strike at Dom. The shout cut off abruptly when Dom's hand closed around the Rick's throat, effectively dissuading his bull-rush tactic.

A horrified whimper escaped her when the scene finally sank in and Jack realized what had happened. The motions were so fast she couldn't immediately follow them, but now she could see how easily Dom had stopped an enraged Riddick with a mere flick of his wrist.

Her hands instinctively went to her face, covering her mouth. The thought of rushing forward to help crossed her mind, but fear unlike any she'd felt before kept her grounded to the spot.

* * *

Conte's grin turned wicked while he watched Rick's face turn from red to purple. The older man couldn't breathe and even though he clawed desperately with both hands he didn't have the strength to free himself. With Dom's thumb cutting off the main supply of blood to his brain, only seconds remained before he'd fall unconscious.

Luckily for him Conte needed him both alive and awake—for the moment. He eased the pressure, just a little, savoring the feeling of power that came from holding another's life literally in the palm of his hand.

"I really thought you'd be more of a challenge, Rick. Or should I say, Richard B. Riddick? I heard you could kill people with your eyes shut while I was in slam. Now you're so pathetic you can't even touch me."

"What do you want?" gasped the old Con-X.

Dom looked over at a frozen Jack, still smirking. "What do you think I want?"

Riddick made an attempt at kicking him, only to find the grip on his throat tightening. He immediately aborted the attempt, seeming to realize defeat had become immanent. Yet he projected none of the usual signs of fear. That made Conte a little nervous, but he allowed the man enough air to speak.

"You can't fucking have her!" he growled just below a strained whisper, seething with rage.

Dom shrugged, still appearing deceptively calm and relaxed. "I could've had her today, or last week, or last month. I could've had her the first day I met her with or without her permission. The fact remains that she isn't what I came here for, she's just a bonus. You ask what I want? You're a smart guy, Riddick, figure it out."

He released the man, fading into the background even while he watched Rick fall to the floor, gasping and coughing. Jack snapped out of her shock and ran to her old hero's side. By the time she took a second to glare up at him, he'd already be gone.

* * *

"Do you think he really left?" she whispered.

Riddick nodded, coughing harshly from the effort it took him to sit up. His voice sounded scratchy, like he'd contracted a bad case of laryngitis. "Unless he's a complete psycho fuck-up, he's gone. He's a pro, if he wanted us dead now we'd be dead."

"So why didn't he kill us? Why did he let us go?" she asked, her voice rising with barely controlled panic.

"I don't fucking know, Jack!" Riddick snapped, obviously still pissed about the whole incident. "Jesus, what the fuck were you thinking trusting a guy like that? Huh? You just happened not to notice he's strong enough to rip my head off, you believed he's really your age? What all did you tell him about me? What did you fucking tell him!"

Tears immediately sprang to her eyes. This was _all_ her fault... "Nothing, I swear! I didn't tell him who you are, he figured it out on his own. I think he got here before I did, I think he's been watching you for months. He's got pictures of all of us, even Shella and some friend of hers. He's got articles from the crash! He followed you here, Riddick! I think he's been tracking you for years and I came as fast I could to tell you but it was too late!" she sobbed, turning away to go do _something_, anything to set things right. Even if she had to track Dom down and try to take him on herself.

Riddick's grip on her wrist stopped her, whipping her back around to face him. He heaved himself to his feet, still hanging on to her arm. "Don't go rushing off to do something stupid. Go upstairs and pack your stuff and mine. I'll be back in a few hours," he said, his tone no softer than before.

Jack had barely started for the stairs, wiping at her eyes with the back of one hand when she heard him stomp out of the house and slam the door.


	47. Now You Don't

AN: Sorry it took a while. I do think it's getting closer to the end though. That's good, right? Lol.

* * *

If he'd known it would be so easy he would've shaken things up months before. He walked in their house, raised hell, and everything fell into place. Riddick stalked out minutes after Dom's departure, banging the door shut behind him and leaving Jack alone.

The man had fallen miles off his game. No matter how much he'd come to resemble the Con-X of his earlier years, Riddick still had a lot of relearning to do. If he'd known anything he would've grabbed the girl and ran immediately.

Conte took a hit off his cigar, the red glow briefly reflecting in the shades he wore. Rick didn't notice him standing some fifty yard down the street in the shadow of a neighbor's house.

It answered one question. Obviously Riddick couldn't yet fathom the danger he and Jack had fallen into. He'd wondered if maybe the man had just played stupid lately to gain himself an advantage.

He stayed until Shella got out of a van that pulled up into the driveway right on time. He watched with mild curiosity when she opened the front door for the handful of men with her. He let the cigar fall from his hand and put it out when they dragged Jack kicking and struggling out the door, forcing her into the vehicle.

She wore the coat he'd returned to her that evening.

He'd seen enough.

Dom turned to go home.

* * *

"How'd you know they were tailing Riddick?"

"Gut feeling," he replied without looking up from loading a clip. When he finished he tapped it on the table to loosen the spring, bring the rounds to the very top.

Looking over the mound of artillery sitting in front of him Dom realized he'd finished, everything was ready. He stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck to each side. Man it felt like he'd sat there for hours. He'd never been so ready for a fight in his life. It was a long time coming and something inside him ached for it. Concentrating came hard to him during preparations. And the company he kept sucked...

The Devil lounged across the room, arms crossed over his chest, black eyes glittering with the prospect of a kill.

"You don't seem very excited, Domy boy. You've waited for this how long? Eight months? I've lost track."

"So have I," he mumbled, standing and strapping a set of handguns around his waist. He grabbed a black leather jacket off his chair and pulled it on to cover the weaponry he'd pack that night.

The Devil growled, malcontent with the careless response he received. "Fuck it, Dom, I told you to forget about the girl! How many times did I tell you? You never needed her to complete the mission!"

"She got Riddick off the Seka, didn't she?" Dom shot back, anger flaring in his blue eyes. He saw the flash of fangs in the Devil's sneer; saw the madness in his eyes.

"I should've made you kill her. Should've known eventually you'd get old enough and grow a heart. Tell me the truth, Domy. Once you fucked her do you really think she would've meant anything? You're a teenager. Lust and love both begin with L. Get the picture?"

Dom growled to himself, walking over and punching a wall with his bare fist, making a dent in the smooth surface. "No! I don't get the fucking picture! I don't have to 'get' anything!"

The Devil laughed, both morbid and calm. "You really are losing it, aren't you? Can't quite wrap your head around some of the nastier things you've done. You never would've known killing was wrong if some female hadn't come along to disapprove." He straightened up, keeping a certain distance between the two of them yet at the same time appearing to loom ever closer... "You can't fight this, Dominic. It's your nature. You were born this way. You got put into Juvy at age eight. Remember why?"

Dom grimaced, turning away. "Shut up," he said, touching his forehead like it hurt. "Just shut the fuck up."

He walked into the bathroom, leaning over the sink and looking at himself, wet palms gripping the porcelain. Strange—he didn't look like a monster on the outside. These feelings of confusion, what caused them? Why did they come on when it was almost over?

The voice came from behind him, "In the end it's all about the pay day, Conte. Girls come and go. You can't exchange them for food or transportation. Going soft almost got your little sister killed before you left her with a family. It's a hard universe, one that hates you and your kind. Face it, you're the only one left because no one could fuck with you. No one. You're not afraid of the dark because you're the meanest thing in it."

Dom's eye started to itch and he rubbed at it desperately. Adrenaline began to dump into his system, and he knew better than to fight it. Too long. Too long in the cage. Bad things would happen once it started. He couldn't turn it off.

"You're weak," the Devil whispered. "Let me make you strong."

"No!" he roared, slamming his fist into the glass and cracking it neatly down the middle. When he looked up again, gasping for air, he saw a blue eye in one half of the cracked surface, and a black one in the other.

The Devil-half of the mirror grinned at his outburst. "I knew you'd see things my way in the end...

"It's time, Dominic."


	48. Death in a Bottle

AN: Yikes, it's been a while, hasn't it? Grr, school... Anyway, let me know if any plot holes jump out of this chapter. It's sort of a crutial piece of this puzzle I've built. As always, thanks so much for reading!

_

* * *

_

_He's not coming._ The words echoed through her mind a million times after the initial abduction.

_He'd never survive this, not now. Oh God, he's not coming._

She couldn't tell her captives the obvious. They gagged her after the hard struggle she put up in Riddick's house. Tears soaked her rough blindfold and it chafed her forehead and her eyelids. She'd long since lost feeling in both her hands and feet and strangely she found herself worrying about getting blood flow back into them before serious damage occurred.

It seemed like she should be more worried about surviving at all.

Jack laid still on the floor of the vehicle, wondering how many miles had passed beneath her exhausted, shaking form. Had they gone far from the house, or just kept going in circles?

When they dragged her from the vehicle, smacking her when she thrashed, Jack decided it didn't matter. She held still while they cut her feet loose and then shoved her along, forcing her to walk.

_There won't be any Riddick to gut this beast._

She was jerked to a stop, a hard surface, like a cement street, beneath her shoes.

"We wait here for him to come," announced a man with authority in his voice.

"I don't like this, Michael. You said you wouldn't hurt him. You said when this was over you'd leave us alone." That was Shella bitching, as usual.

"You had your time. If you'd done your job this thing would've been over months ago and you and your precious piece could've returned to whatever pathetic life you've built for yourselves."

The argument raged back and forth on a subject Jack couldn't follow. This Michael guy, he wanted 'the weapon.' Whatever that was... Was Riddick a weapon? Jack didn't know. She did hear Shella cry out briefly, as though in pain, and then muffled sobbing that soon faded into the distance.

"Glad you finally told her what's what, boss," commented one of the men holding Jack's arms.

"Shut up," Michael snapped. A silence ensued. "Gentlemen, I do believe we have company."

* * *

A shot rang out in the distance and Michael sent men to go check it out. Not long after that came the shattering of glass when the lights above got taken out. Screams pierced the darkness one at a time.

Death screams.

Shella moved quickly from her alleyway hiding place where she'd sat against a brick wall, crying. She'd have time later to sulk in her misery, for the moment she needed to run.

She felt almost relieved when she turned a corner and nearly walked into him. She fell to her knees after the initial scare, her nerves frazzled past their limit. Her breathing took long minutes to slow, and all the while he watched her in silence.

It took her a moment to realize he'd changed. He'd become darker somehow. Hard, untouchable.

"I made a mistake, you've got to help me. Everything went wrong, it wasn't supposed to turn out this way. No one was supposed to get hurt. No one..."

A soft sound in the dark--and another, neither more than a whisper and then he slowly walked on.

Her body slumped and she looked after him, seeing his back until her vision glazed and her stare became permanent.

* * *

"You're all alone now, why don't you let the girl go?" Riddick rumbled, his presence suddenly felt by a blind and gagged Jack.

A low whimper escaped her. He'd come for her—and from the sound of it, things had gone well thus far for her hero.

Sure hands tore off her blindfold, finally allowing her to see, although just barely in the dull moonlight. Riddick stood not thirty feet away, dressed in cargos and a black muscle shirt.

"You want her, you've got to give something up," her captor called back. He sounded distressed, but not panicked. He held a gun to her head, using her body to shield his as he backed away.

"Like what? My _virginity_?" Riddick said sarcastically, moving the goggles around his neck up onto his forehead.

"Something valuable. Something only you could have."

For every two steps back Michael and Jack took, Riddick advanced one forward. He appeared out of striking distance, but if nothing else Jack knew better than to underestimate how fast he could move. "I have nothing of value to you," Rick replied coldly, apparently not in any mood for games.

"Of course you do. You have the coordinates of the planet where the Hunter Grazner crashed. The coordinates conveniently left out of the report given to the Empire by the girl and the Imam, no doubt so they couldn't prove if Riddick died there. You, and I suspect only _you_, know the location of Project Destiny.

"You see, it didn't surprise me when my wretched stripper of a sister turned up on my doorstep begging for help. Anything to get her life out of the gutter. More to get rid of her than anything, I provided her with a number of packets of a drug I found lying around the base where I served. Where I used to serve...

"Some months later, after I officially left the service and got recruited by the Empire's task force, suddenly that rash decision to provide my worthless sister with a brain washing substance paid off. She informed me her new beau was none other than the famous Richard B. Riddick. She'd just discovered the fact and was quite excited about it, but not nearly so much as I. She didn't fully realize the significance of your survival of the crash of the HG. But I did."

"What the fuck is Project Destiny?" Riddick interjected at the correct pause in the conversation. He stopped advancing and crossed his arms over his chest, apparently ready to listen.

Behind her ear, Jack could almost see the slow, crazy smile start to spread across Michael's face.

"That, my boy, is the reason we've come to this standoff tonight. Why I've tracked you for so long, spent so much energy trying to coach my sister into dredging all the information out of you that she could. It wasn't easy, you know. She refused to allow you to be taken from her. She wanted to do things 'her way.' I allowed it, until now. Foolish, really, but necessary. If at all possible I didn't want to leave any fingerprints on what will inevitably happen. Project Destiny is just like its name. Destiny—in a bottle. The future of all man kind. Proof that homo-sapiens will inherit the universe. In rumor it has been refered to as the Apple of Eden."

Riddick cocked his head. "Apple of Eden? Made to wipe out any species that genetically strayed too far from the classic human. I've heard of it. It's a myth."

"I assure you it's very real. Just as soon as you tell me the coordinates of the planet you can have the girl and go."

Riddick hesitated, froze for just a second. Jack's mind moved no faster than a slow crawl in processing all the information that had just hit her in the face.

Her life in trade for millions. Maybe even for Riddick's life if he truly was a subspecies... No, he couldn't do it, she couldn't let him do it!

"Tell you what," Riddick finally said, his hands slowly lowering to his sides. "You give me the girl, and I'll let you walk out of this alley alive. Whoever you are, you lost this round. No matter what I tell you, there's no way for you to know if I'm telling the truth."

Jack felt herself pulled back a step, then another. Her brain hardly registered the fact.

"Too true, Mr. Riddick. But at this point anything's better than nothing. Give up the coordinates, or I pull the trigger."

"Pull the trigger and I'll use your guts for needle point while you're still breathing. I don't have any questions that need answering, so my sole focus would be on your discomfort and pain."

To her complete surprise, the muzzle of the gun fell away from Jack's temple and she got shoved hard in Riddick's direction.

"Well played, Mr. Riddick. Well played."

She ran into his strong arms, ripping off the gag, tears streaming down her cheeks. Riddick squeezed her before turning, preparing to leave, quickly.

"Just one last question," Michael said, again raising his gun. "Did you really think I was stupid enough to get caught monologing if I intended to let either of you live? I just needed to buy time before my backup arrived."

Riddick's eyes flicked around, his gaze pausing on the darkness shrouding the rooftops above. Jack could see it in the silver pools. Michael wasn't bluffing. They were trapped.

Jack looked up at her hero, one hand on his forearm, wondering if perhaps their luck had just run out. "I never had a doubt," she said. "I knew you'd come for me."

His eyes dropped, and he smirked just a bit, a look reminiscent of the one he'd given her the first time she'd said those exact words, inside the tiny cave on T2. "Liar," he replied softly.

"Boys," Michael shouted. "Let these nice people know you're up there."

Two shots rang outin the darkness above just as Riddick shoved Jack behind him.


	49. The End of Your Fifteen

AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I know I've got some things to work on, but unfortunately I probably won't get to edit or anything until winter break. Grr, three more weeks! Anyway, sorry about the short chapter. I should have the next one up in the relatively near future.

* * *

His gaze focused entirely on the military man's gun, so he didn't see anything else until too late. Riddick nearly jumped himself when an arm came out of the shadows and wrapped around Michael's throat.

The gun discharged once, twice, during the initial struggle, but Michael was classic human, and easily overpowered. The bullets traveled off in safe directions before the weapon fell harmlessly to the ground.

A low growl emanated from their rescuer as he forced Michael to step forward into the light, his death-hold on the military man never faltering. "Did I miss anything?" he asked, but for some reason Riddick got the feeling like the question wasn't directed toward either him or Jack.

Speaking of Jack, she had peeked around him, and whimpered when she recognized the attacker.

Dominic Conte. Con-X. Rysen. Scary as fuck.

Of course he'd suspected, but initially the hair had thrown him. In the picture in the paper the Con-X's hair appeared colorless, albino almost. Not unusual for a Rysen—their hair coloring tended toward blonde and a few shades of light brown. Black simply never happened among their people. At least, he'd thought so up until then...

"What is he?" Jack whispered, staring in shock at her former boyfriend from under Riddick's arm. Still watching the event taking place, he almost cringed himself, knowing Jack would have nightmares for months after that night.

Conte grinned at the two of them over Michael's shoulder, his dying prey almost forgotten in his madness. The kid definitely wasn't sane at the moment. There was no tortured soul or conscience looking out of the black depths of his eyes. There was nothing there, nothing at all. Just killer instinct, the eyes of a demon, and a set of shiny white fangs.

Yes, fangs. Even for a Rysen, Dom was a genetic anomaly.

"Is he a vampire, Riddick?"

A low tone vibrated through his chest, and he took a moment to absorb the scene before answering. "It wouldn't surprise me if he did drink blood—but no, he's not a supernatural creature. Although I'm sure he's passed himself off as one in the past... Put a knife in his back and it'd seriously cramp his style, just like anyone else."

"But obviously, no one's managed it yet," Dom growled pleasantly, his speech taking on a shorter pattern with the addition of elongated K-9s.

Riddick merely shook his head. "You're only seventeen, there's plenty of time left for _someone_ to get the job done."

"What, you actually believe he's seventeen now?" Jack asked shakily, her still-bound hands burying themselves in his shirt.

"Oh, yeah, I believe it. He's only a baby killing-machine. When he's thirty or forty he'll get real nasty. Just like a wolf. They're nice as puppies and maybe they're mellow when they get old, but don't run into them any time in the middle. "

Dom shrugged, just as Michael let out a scream and started to flail in futile effort to escape whatever was being done to him. "Whatever you say, Mr. Big. It sounds like you know your shit. Maybe you've met an adult of my kind. I really don't remember what they're like."

Riddick turned, deciding he'd wasted enough time talking to an insane child. Retrieving a shiv, he freed Jack's hands, rubbing them until they started to warm with returning circulation. "Come on, Jack. Let's get out of here."

Her stare didn't leave the murder occurring before her. He glanced up in time to see Dom sink his teeth into the shoulder of his victim for a brief second before letting the dead man slump to the ground. Only then could Riddick see the knife protruding from between Michael's ribs on the left side.

Conte moved around the body, patting him down. He stole the man's wallet, dog tags, some papers, and cut an ear off, placing it in a plastic bag. The items disappeared into the boy's cargo pockets. That was when Riddick saw _it_ on Dom's left shoulder.

Black flame, red ribbon, blue-silver blade. He guessed at the colors, remembering them from before his vision turned into a wash of grays and purples. He didn't have to guess what the tattoo meant.

"You're no merc," he said. Leaving Jack behind, he ventured forward, hoping his tone sounded nothing more than curious. Dom didn't seem to notice, too busy crouching down next to the body, rifling through clothing.

"Considering the Empire's task force **dissects** guys like me, are you really surprised?" Conte deadpanned.

"A little. Assassins aren't usually bonehead kids. You can't even get into the guild without an invitation."

"Yeah, so?"

"So I never got one, and that makes me curious to know just _how_ dangerous you are."

Conte's only response was to grunt and shrug, not distracted in the least from his activities. He took a pack of cigarettes from Michael's shirt pocket and started to light up, still crouched over the body.

"So, how much was he worth?"

"Enough to buy the best in the business," Dom replied, taking a pair of shades from his own pocket and putting them on before blowing out a stream of smoke.

"And what were we? Bait?" Riddick speculated, his grip tightening on the shiv in his hand as he crept ever closer.

Dom shrugged. "The guy was good. He knew the Resistance had someone after him. I had a hard time getting him alone, out in the open. Sure, I could've just shot him, any time. But then I've gotta consider how I'm gonna get a body part for proof of death. Besides, didn't you think it worked out so much better with both of us killing off his cronies tonight?"

"Didn't really notice I had help," Riddick growled, lunging forward, his eye on Dom's sweet spot. He just hoped Rysens looked human on the inside. If he missed, it'd be all over for him that much sooner.

Jack screamed to him, but it was too late. He had no idea how the bastard did it, but Conte flipped onto his back and drew two heavy duty hand guns in the bat of an eye.

A single shot fired, and everything went completely still.


	50. Can't Miss

AN: Here's to finishing this thing in the next couple weeks;-)

* * *

The two men hung suspended for a long moment, Riddick towering over Dom, poised to strike a killing blow—Dom lying on the cement, both guns pointed at Riddick's chest.

A cocky smirk crept across Conte's face as he tilted his head to one side. After another moment of silence he spoke around his cigarette. "So, how was it?"

"How was what?" Riddick asked after slowly licking his lips

"Your life. When it flashed before your eyes just now."

"You missed on purpose."

"I never miss, _Dick_."

Jack screamed when a body hit the pavement with a sickening thud.

Conte inclined his head slightly toward the new corpse. "Poor bastard showed up late. He should've just gone home and got laid."

"So, what're you gonna take for proof that you got me? My nose?" Riddick asked, sarcasm creeping back into his tone.

Dom rolled quickly back over his shoulder and onto his feet, proving to be lithe as a cat. Neither his eyes nor his guns left Riddick for more than a fraction of a second. He smirked. "I'm not here for you. At least, not this time... Now, as much as I'd like to stay and gab, I've already overstayed my welcome at this particular murder scene. Plus I've got some unfinished business to take care of. If it's all right with you two, I think I'll just fade back into the shadows, nice and easy."

It seemed too simple an ending, but true to his word, Dom did just that. He backed to a safe distance and then turned and walked away.

* * *

He dragged his last victim of the night through the window of a car, poured lighter fluid on him, then tossed a waning cigarette on the flailing body.

Sometimes he wondered if some assassins considered themselves artists. He didn't, it sounded too feminine. Still, there was something satisfying in an ironic death.

Shane Connell had fire engine red hair. He once proclaimed himself leader of a gang called the Flames. He crossed a rival gang by messing around with the younger sister of the Viper leader, thereby burning some of his last bridges. Then, all of a sudden, his life literally went up in smoke.

The high wasn't as good by then. Spike after spike of adrenaline had left him calm after the shaking stopped. Calm enough to feel in complete control of himself by the time he crawled onto the roof of Riddick's house and silently took a seat just outside Jack's open window.

She didn't notice at first, still in shock from what she'd seen that night. Her movements remained automatic, mechanical as she finished packing her few belongings. Just like earlier that evening, when she couldn't manage to identify just what kind of beast he'd become. Finally she did see him. She jumped, prepared to scream, but didn't when he merely cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I came to say good-bye," he said, slightly amused that he'd turned into the boogieman so quickly. Just that afternoon she'd come to his ship of her own free will and thrown herself into his arms.

"I can't believe I trusted you. I'm just as bad as Riddick was with Shella. She's still out there, you know. Probably blowing the whistle as we speak."

"No, she's not."

"Yeah, how would you know? Hell, you're probably working with her. She's pregnant with you, isn't she. She tried to tell Rick it was his to keep him, but he..."

She was becoming hysterical. If he wanted to get her listening to reason she'd have to calm down a notch or two. He let his jaw come to rest on one fist, tiring quickly of attempting to explain himself. "Jack, she wasn't pregnant with me. I'm not biologically close enough to girls like you for that sort of thing to happen."

"What happened to your teeth?" she asked suddenly, staring at him like she would Count Dracula. It occurred to him that she might've briefly forgotten about those in her confusion. "They're normal now. Do you have a bridge, or a..."

He relaxed the muscles in his face, closing his eyes. It took no small amount of concentration, but finally his eyeteeth slid down a few millimeters. He grinned at her, revealing his wicked looking fangs in all their glory.

Jack stared, the horror plain on her face. "Why did you bite him? Why, how did you..."

"It's a mutation I was born with. Every now and then you see a human with two different colored eyes. Among the males of my species there exists the potential for teeth built to rip through meat. There's speculation that humans were born from the Rysen species. We're more primitive than you, I guess. When I get excited they usually drop on their own. Biting the people I kill is like leaving my signature on them, just in case I happen to lose my proof of death."

"Why are they retractable?"

"No idea, but I've wondered."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't scream."

"Because now you know what I can do. I never lied about liking you, Jack. What happened to you tonight, that was partially my fault, but I wouldn't have let anything bad happen to you. I put a tracking device in your jacket just so I'd be able to find you. You're a spunky girl. You're smart. That's why I want you to come with me. I'm retiring and I've got enough common dollars to fill a small swimming pool. I need someone to spend it on."

She shook her head. "I'd never go with you. I don't know what you are... But you're not human. Riddick, at least he _cares_. Now that I've got him back I'm never leaving him for anyone." She turned her back on him, a clear dismissal.

"Jackie, Jackie. You never learn, do you?" he said, his tone sincere. "Rick won't stick around, babe. This spooked him, bad. He'll drop you off with your Imam friend and a few months of rent and then he'll go on his way. You'll be back where you started when this whole thing began. Not a part of my plan, not part of anyone's plan. Just alone. You've seen the uglier side of the universe, you know things a kid your age shouldn't know. We've both fought hard to get where we are in a tough world, Jackie girl. No one deserves to see the up side of life more than us.

"I know there's a still a wild streak in you, a part of you that can't settle down yet. Come with me, baby, and I'll show you the stars until you're sick of them. Then, if you want, I'll take you home. No strings attached."

He waited for a response to his offer that didn't come. He didn't allow himself a sigh of discouragement. "I'll wait an hour before taking off. You know where to find me, if you change your mind."

When she turned to look at him, either to tell him off or accept, he'd already made sure to drop out of sight.


	51. In the End

AN: It's been a great ride. Thanks to you all.

* * *

"Riddick?" Jack asked, interrupting the silence of the car ride. She hadn't spoken since her encounter with Dom. Rick hadn't encouraged her otherwise.

"Yeah?"

"What that guy said about a virus that could wipe out non-humans, do you think that was true?"

"Jack, he just made stuff up as he went. Some of it was true, some he 'improvised' on the spot. They didn't want me to help them find the Hunter Grazner. I know they could find it themselves. The wreck was probably picked clean years ago. Project Destiny is real enough, and if he wasn't working on it then he convinced someone otherwise. The Resistance didn't send a guild assassin after him for no reason. Whatever he wanted from me, it wasn't coordinates for that particular wreck. He wanted something else..."

Jack looked over at him, backpack hugged tight to her chest. "Like what?" she asked, sounding small.

Riddick shook his head slowly. "I don't know. Thanks to Dominic Conte we'll probably never find out, which is just the way I like it. Whatever it was, I doubt it would've been pleasant."

"So, you think Dom's part of the Resistance?" she asked, confused. Jack had heard of the Resistance before that evening. They were mostly survivors of the extermination. They'd bound together, bent on overthrowing the Empire. Before that night she hadn't realized they had enough money or power to do much more than flee the bounty hunters and military forces chasing them.

"No. I think Dom's an assassin with motivation beyond mere money. He said he was an orphan, and I think that's very likely. If I ever saw him again I'd have a question or two to ask him, from one killer to another."

"Like what kind of questions?"

His silver eyes came to rest briefly on her form and she could almost feel her skin cool wherever his mercury gaze touched. "I'd like to ask him if it was his mother or his father who got stabbed through the chest when the troops came to kill them. Or maybe it was someone else he cared about. There has to be some reason why he always aims for the heart on a kill shot."

"Oh," she said, sounding stupid to her own ears. Another silence passed between them, but she didn't notice, too busy staring out at the stars and thinking about how the night looked so much like the first one she'd seen on the planet months ago.

Back then she never would've guessed she'd end up leaving with Riddick at her side...

"I don't suppose Imam will approve of us living alone together in an apartment, will he?" she said, testing.

Besides hearing him shift in his seat ever so slightly, no response came from him.

Jack let her eyes slide closed and her forehead rested against the glass of the window.

_Damn you, Dominic. Damn you._

* * *

_All the King's Horses, and all the King's Men... __  
__Couldn't break Jack's heart, but Riddick still can..._

She made it simple. She stood back when they reached the ship Riddick had arranged passage on for their trip. They'd arrived almost too late, and most of the other passengers were already aboard. He and the pilot were half way up the ramp before he noticed she hadn't followed. When he turned around she mouthed that she was sorry.

He came down briefly and listened in silence to her few words of explanation.

_We both know I don't belong with you..._

For a second she couldn't believe she'd said those words. From the day she'd met him she'd loved him with all her being. Now it was time to let him go, leave him first.

It only would've hurt worse if she'd let him become the betrayer yet again.

* * *

Dom kept the lights low on his ship. The ramp was down when she arrived, but as soon as she got on board it closed behind her. She stowed her bags in the open compartments next to the door and then went forward, finding the cabin for the first time.

"Strap in," was all he said.

She obeyed, not quite able to believe what she'd just done. Was it a mistake?

Jack glanced over at the man beside her and when she caught his eye he smiled, just fractionally. He was glad to have her along, glad for her company.

His fingers flew over switches and he spoke fluently in radio gibberish. He had everything under control. Moments later they were cleared to fire up main engines and leave at will.

"Godspeed," said traffic control, and that was about the only part of the entire communication Jack understood over the static and strange lingo.

"You ever want to be an explorer, Jack?" Dom asked while waiting for the drive to warm up.

She nodded, swallowing twice to rid her throat of the dryness that had settled there. "I always did. That's one reason I got on the Hunter Grazner in the first place. I wanted to see the universe. I got a little sidetracked, but I think maybe I could do it, live this sort of life."

He chuckled, and for a brief second she felt comfortable with him again. Then she realized she hadn't felt uncomfortable since she'd gotten on the ship. She still had a million questions for him about what had happened that night, about his true identity, and who he worked for. At least half of them were about the man he'd killed that night. She just figured it could wait. For one night, everything could wait.

The boyish grin she'd come to know so well softened his black eyes to the point where she could look at his face without staring. It almost surprised her when he reached over and took her hand. "Then let's go be explorers, babe."

She smiled back at him, squeezing his palm, almost hesitating in releasing it from her grasp.

Dom brought up the running lights and she finally saw him standing outside. Riddick had placed himself in front of the ship. The sudden brightness caught him off guard, and he had to throw one forearms across his eyes. He stood there, half blinded, shouting something, although not seemingly in anger.

She looked over to observe Conte's reaction only to find his features looking strangely serene.

"What's he saying?" she asked, her voice reflecting the calm she felt inside.

For a long moment he turned to just look at her, and then his demon eyes returned to the view outside. A low growl rumbled through his chest; a pleasant sound, though definitely inhuman.

The cocky half-grin never left his face. "He's saying—'I belong with you.'"

She nodded, her insides turning strangely numb. "What should I do?" she asked, reaching out to touch the plastic shield in front of her, looking out at the man asking her to go with him to New Mecca.

Dom leaned back a little in his seat, considering, the placid smile still shaping his features. "You ever watch a sunset, Jack? They're beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, but I really never appreciated them until I went to prison. See, there are no sunsets in slam. There's no open spaces and no fresh air. Just death and disease. I found out that when a man leaves a place like that and regains those basic things of life, he hangs on to them with all his strength so he won't lose them again.

"You'll never know the things men like Riddick and I have seen during our lives, you'll never know those kinds of places of complete despair. One thing you will know, because I'm about to tell you, is that in prison there are no Jacks. In most of the universe we've known, there are no Jacks. There are sunsets, and spring times, and some of the most beautiful girls you've ever seen, but those things aren't always enough.

"You may think you're plain, just another face in the crowd; but Riddick and I both know there's only a one in a million shot that men like us would ever find another woman like you.

"Someone we know will never betray us.

"Someone who'll fight for us against any odds.

"Someone who can put us back together again when we fall..."


	52. Epilogue Pt 1

AN: I think some people might've been looking forward to this. Keep in mind that the story's far from over;-)

-------------------------------

Jack woke slowly to the alarm going off. She groaned, trying to reach over and smack it into silence. However, a certain two-hundred-plus pound blanket kept her from accomplishing the task.

She stretched slender fingers toward the noise box, wondering how her husband could possibly sleep through its racket. He hadn't been asleep for long, but still...

Just as she finally wiggled over another inch to accomplish her task, his hand met hers at the button. Once the alarm ceased he intertwined his fingers with hers, squeezing gently.

"Morning, Jack," he rumbled pleasantly, his low voice coming out dry and rusty.

A soft noise escaped her when his mouth found her jaw line, and he pressed kisses against the side of her face, moving up to her ear.

The pace he set with their lovemaking told her it was Saturday. His rhythm held no urgency because neither of them had anywhere to be that morning. Soft whispers passed her lips, and she pressed her face against his neck, biting his shoulder gently. It often surprised her how silent they could be.

She felt relaxed enough to fall back asleep when he held her later. The warmth at her back and his arm slung across her waist lulled her into a sense of complacency.

"So, what do you wanna do on your anniversary?"

"Crap, is that today? I completely forgot," she groaned, rubbing at her face with one hand. So maybe she wouldn't get to fall back to sleep after all.

He laughed, quietly, his fingertips gently stroking up and down her bare side. "Just be glad I'm not the woman in this relationship, Jack. Things would get ugly every time Valentines rolled around. I guess I wouldn't get to complain if you forgot my birthday, since usually you forget your own..."

She smiled, turning over to look at him. "When have I ever forgotten your birthday, _Dick_?" she whispered, teasing playfully.

Riddick grinned, looking sharkish. "Only every day. Every morning I wake up next to you must be my birthday. Can't think of any other reason for it," he teased, pulling her against his chest and kissing the top of her head. He released her a short moment later and slowly rose to use the bathroom.

Jack watched him go, still smiling to herself.

It often boggled her mind that she'd ended up right where she wanted. Since that night when they'd fled the city where Riddick and Shella had set up a life for themselves, the events that came to pass seemed like a rollercoaster flying out of control.

-------------------------------------------------------

First they'd returned to New Mecca and gone to see Imam. They'd taken him out to eat at his favorite restaurant where he'd smiled at the two of them knowingly and explained to them exactly what their plans should be.

Jack was seventeen, and on New Mecca that meant she was old enough to marry without permission from a legal guardian. She'd already become a member of the religious community, and a citizen of New Mecca. If she and Riddick became husband and wife, they would both belong to a planet declared independent of the Empire's rule for the purpose of being a place of untainted religious center. The community could serve as a sanctuary for Rick, if he presented himself and the local council decided he'd reformed enough to be accepted. If the Empire actually paid enough attention to realize he was alive, and tried to take him away, the entire populous would protest, insisting they be allowed to carry out their own justice where New Mecca's citizens were concerned.

At first Jack was skeptical of the plan. Surely the mighty Empire wouldn't care about the government and justice system of a single planet?

Imam had merely smiled and gone on to inform her that no man held enough worth in the eyes of the Empire to warrant the cutting off of the unrefined fuel cell material naturally abundant in New Mecca's mines.

After that it was a race to find the practicing holy man who could marry them fastest.

Jack expected marriage to change her life dramatically, but it didn't. She and Riddick lived together in peace after getting a small apartment in New Mecca's capital. It only had one bedroom, so Rick slept in the living room. He got a lower management position with another security consulting firm, similar to the one he'd worked for while living with Shella, except this one gave him the freedom to do most of his work from home—proofing overviews of security plans and blueprints, keeping in contact with fellow workers from all over the planet via video conferencing. When Jack teased him about 'Big Bad Riddick working for _the man_,' he'd reminded her it didn't matter if he had been granted sanctuary on New Mecca, it was better to keep a low profile than tempt fate. He'd needed work to pay their rent while Jack continued her efforts to go to college, and the flexibility to do most of his work alone suited him.

After graduating from high school, Jack moved out, living in the dorm like a regular kid. She didn't tell anyone she was married, knowing she'd get asked a hundred times if she was pregnant, or had been in the past. Besides the fact she didn't waste any time on boys, her first year of college went just like she'd always figured it would. Lots of stress, and lots of studying.

At first she didn't think she could cut it. She struggled with her classes and might've dropped out if Riddick hadn't been there for her. It surprised her how good he could be at helping her keep things in perspective. Every time her spirits got especially low, he found a way to cheer her up.

Through banter and support of each other, their relationship grew strong. It went beyond friendship to a feeling that they'd known each other forever. It didn't happen overnight, but over time as they grew to know each other well as adults, not as hero and worshiper. Thinking back, the first part of their marriage had really felt like a courtship. One that eventually led to the long thought upon decision to stay together instead of seeking an annulment once danger no longer seemed immanent.

_"You're the only person I trust," he'd admitted to her one night when they sat on the roof of their building, watching the stars. _

_"I don't know if you should. I've lied to you. I don't regret it most days, but I did," Jack had responded, reluctantly. _

_He'd only grinned at her, his smile shark-like. "I know you did, Jack." _

For a long time she felt the same as Riddick about trusting others. After surviving Hope, Dom and Shella, Jack felt they'd both learned a hard lesson about letting people into their lives. For the two of them, there could never be any assuming about the trustworthiness of others. They had to make sure before letting anyone in. So for the most part, they hadn't...

_At least, not intentionally..._ Jack smiled at that thought.

She still remembered the discussions they'd had about children, even before they'd begun sharing a bedroom some time after she turned nineteen. They'd agreed the risk was too great. It was possible for Riddick to have the damage done to him in prison repaired. Some research hospitals claimed to have had success with a new procedure that could reverse the sterilization process. The problem remained that all those hospitals were located in areas within the Empire too dangerous for any freedom-loving criminal to visit. The subject dropped, their lives went on.

Their first kiss came during a social event at Jack's college, after their first night out as a couple nearly ended in disaster. Their first night together came just weeks after that.

Imam noticed the difference when he saw them a number of days later, and even he agreed it was about time they indulged in a honeymoon.

Less than a year before her college graduation, Jack got the flu. She threw up most of the morning and then lay in bed, missing class and feeling like crap until early evening when the nausea finally started to abate. The next morning started with her sitting in the bathroom, arms crossed over her stomach. She didn't get sick, but she'd felt bad enough to wish she would.

Riddick had walked in, ready to go to work—he had a presentation from a new client to attend at the main office downtown. He'd looked at her funny, cocking his head slightly. "You know, if I didn't know better, Jack, I'd almost think this flu had characteristics of morning sickness."

Her face had fallen, and she'd found herself truly hurt by him for the first time during their three years of marriage. "Are you kidding me? I'm sick all day yesterday and you accuse me of cheating? I haven't, okay? It's not as bad today, so maybe I'm getting better. I probably ate something last night that made it worse again..."

He'd taken a step or two closer, turned his back to the wall, and slid down to sit next to her. Taking her under one arm, he'd squeezed her tight against his side. "Never said I thought you cheated. You might want to consider getting a pregnancy test. The results could surprise you." The tone of his voice reluctantly indicated he knew something she didn't.

She'd turned to look at him, puzzled.

He sighed, looking at the floor. "A small part of the new treatment they're using involves a medication that helps repair the damage done by the chemicals they use on subspecies prisoners. A guy owed me—sent me some of those meds about a year before we started sleepin' together. I went to Imam's doctor for regular tests and it didn't seem to have done any good. It was beyond a long shot, but he did say that possibly, after that initial nudge, my body might find a way to heal itself in time."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she'd asked.

He'd shrugged. "Didn't believe him. Felt stupid for even trying. Never planned on having kids, but it wasn't easy wondering if you'd want them someday. Thinkin' about that made me feel—incomplete. You sacrificed a lot for me, Jack. It might be _way _sooner than either of us wanted, but at least you won't have to sacrifice this too."

Jack had smiled at his sentiment, but no matter how hard she tried not to allow panic to overshadow her thoughts, she couldn't help feeling a cold, gripping fear clutching at her heart.

"I would've stayed with you anyway, you know," she'd said. "I love you way more than the prospect of ever being a mother. I guess—I never really planned to have kids either."

He'd smiled morbidly, looking away. "I figured as much. I just had to keep telling myself it was for you, or else I never would've gone to the doc in the first place. Thinkin' back, the real reason I went probably had more to do with ego than anything. When I was younger I saw it as a free pass—sex without consequence. After a lot of years, I started to feel like I had a hole in me. An inadequacy..."

Jack's eyes had widened. "Oh shit. You were thinking about leaving me, weren't you?"

His face hadn't betrayed anything as he reached over to brush her hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek with his palm.

Tears had come to her eyes, even though she fought them back. "Why would it bother you so much if you didn't have to tell anyone ever again? I already knew, so who else would you have to tell? No one—except the next girl who wanted to know why you didn't bring protection. You never would've let me get pregnant if you'd known, not in a million years. Tell me I'm wrong, Riddick."

He'd kept his peace, eyes looking at her with something akin to sadness and pity. "It's gonna be okay, Jack," he'd finally said.

She'd turned away from him, bring up her knees and burying her face in her arms. "Oh shit," she'd sobbed. "Are you going to run now? If I am..." Jack's tears had cut her shot, her voice breaking pathetically.

He'd pulled her closer, holding her against his side while she cried, just listening to her sobs for several long minutes. "I really fucked up this time, didn't I?"

She'd nodded, having quieted some.

Riddick had sighed, finally disentangling himself from her grip. "I'm gonna be late," he'd said softly, getting to his feet and straightening his clothes while walking out of the bathroom.

Jack had bit her lip, a fresh wave of tears flooding her eyes. He'd never cared about arriving late for meetings or presentations before... Only when he needed an excuse to get away.

He'd looked back before leaving her line of sight, cocking his head a little to the side. "Don't order out for dinner tonight. If you're feeling better we'll head up town and eat with Imam at that place he likes. Sound good?"

She'd nodded.

Only after hours more of crying had it finally sank in that making dinner plans was Riddick's way of telling her not to worry. He might be afraid to admit he was ready to stick by her through anything, but he would—as long as she didn't force him to put his commitment into so many words.

The bounty on Dom's head grew to the point where the price offered for other criminals by the Empire reduced to mere pocket change. Never more than a few thousand dollars common. He did get reported captured and killed for a while, when Jack was eighteen.

When she'd casually asked Riddick if he thought their old acquaintance actually had gone to meet his maker, her husband merely brought up the Empire's watch list on the nearest view screen and pointed the enormous sum still listed next to Conte's name.

The point was clear. Dead men weren't worth a large fortune, no matter who had it out for them.

The next they heard from Conte was around the time Cameron Riddick reached six months of age, and celebrated it by getting a cold. His parents had walked with him for hours, finally getting him down for a night of sleep. The message came in at about three AM, just when they were about ready to collapse into bed.

The comm had beeped, and Riddick had gone to answer it, followed closely by Jack upon glimpsing a shirtless Dom on the screen.

"First of all, this is a recorded message on delayed send, so don't get any big ideas about finding me," he'd began by the time Jack reached Rick's side.

Almost instinctively Rick pulled her onto his lap, letting her sit sideways and watch with him, his arms wrapped around her waist.

Several years had passed, but she'd still recognized the Con-X on the screen. His black hair had grown longer, and his eyes appeared more green than blue, probably the result of a new set of contacts. The smirk remained the same, though his face appeared less boyish. He only wore a pair of loose sweatpants. She could see clearly his whole body had grown more massive with sleek muscle.

During the recording, Dom sat on the edge of a bed in a plain hotel room with zero identifying characteristics. He could've been anywhere in the universe, so she'd had no idea why he'd thought they might make the effort to locate him to report him for the bounty.

"I just wanted to make sure I let you both know that no one ever got me in the back. Lots of rumors are going around that I'm dead, but obviously I'm doing just fine."

A young female voice interrupted him from the background. "Dom! I am so going to get you for this! You finished off the ice cream!"

Briefly his attention turned off screen. "Look in the fridge; I put it in there to let it soften up. You shouldn't be eating ice cream for breakfast anyway!"

"Yeah, whatever. You're so not the boss of me, ya jerk!" the mysterious girl yelled back, sounding perfectly comfortable bantering with the most wanted felon in the universe.

"Thief!" he shouted back, his eyes glittering exactly the way Jack remembered them when he used to tease her.

"You so can't win that one, Con, so don't even go there! I _so_ trump your ass with the mass murderer card!"

"Yeah, why don't you come over here and try that one, huh?" he said, grinning. He didn't even bother regaining his serious composure before looking back into the screen. He motioned with his head. "That's my girl. I found her a while ago and took her in. If I hadn't, she'd be dead now, because the Task Force was after the people she worked for. She's just a kid, really, but it's cool to have her. If I hadn't met Jack, I'm not sure I'd be living so high now. So I guess what I really wanted to say was, thanks..." After a second he reached forward and hit the end button, leaving Jack and Riddick in darkness.

"So," she'd said at last. "What do you think _that_ was all about?"

He'd chuckled, squeezing her a little. "I think our Con-X is growing up. Probably his first time in love. He just _had_ to tell someone about it."

"Well in that case she's a lucky girl, because he's even hotter than I remembered."

Riddick had growled at that suggestion, seeming to miss the teasing her voice. "You'd rather be running around the galaxy with _that _loser?"

She'd just smiled tiredly at him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh, come on, Riddick. Be serious. Do you honestly think I'd ever trade the life I've built with you for anything in the universe?"

He'd sighed. "No," he'd admitted, his better humor returning. "I know you wouldn't. Not for Conte, anyway. There's only one man I really got to worry about."

"Yeah, who's that?" she'd asked, curious.

Riddick had smirked, and his features took on a rare look of boyish mischief. "He's a little guy. Likes drinking milk. Goes by the name of ' Cam,'" he'd informed her.

Jack had half shrugged, barely suppressing a grin but pretending to be serious in her response, "Yeah. You've got me there. If I were you, I'd definitely be worried."

She'd gotten her nose tweaked for that one, and if both of them hadn't been exhausted Rick probably would've expected her to make it up to him.

Not that she would've minded that, of course.

-------------------------------------------------------

The door of Jack and Riddick's bedroom slowly creaked open. Jack smiled, her travels through seemingly distant memories fading. She sat up in bed, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of Cameron peeking in at her.

"I see you," she said, snickering.

Cam giggled, and the door swung open a little more. Soon he was crawling up on the foot of their bed, before launching himself into her arms. He'd brought his favorite story book.

Rick walked out of the bathroom wearing sweatpants, a towel draped across his broad shoulders. Cam immediately got up, running and jumping off the edge of the bed, never for a second fearing his father wouldn't catch him.

Riddick swooped the boy up, turning him upside down and making him scream with delight. The two crashed down beside Jack, their landing far more controlled than Cameron would ever believe.

"Story!" he insisted enthusiastically, reaching toward the book sitting in Jack's lap.

She smiled, scooting closer to them and opening the book.

Riddick held their three year old on his lap while Jack sat next to them and read one short story after another, Rick's arm snug around her shoulders.

They laughed when their son laughed, and sometimes would take breaks to tickle him until he begged them to stop. Their jobs kept them away from him during the week, so their weekends revolved around him. Jack couldn't remember the last time she and Rick had gone out alone on Saturday night, but that really didn't bother her.

They shared a late breakfast, watching cartoons on the kitchen's viewer until the news came on. After the table got cleared off, Jack and Cameron decorated the sugar cookies she'd baked the night before. Riddick sat across the table and watched, musing to himself.

"What should we put on this one?" she asked her son, taking a cookie off the pan so he could see it.

Cam grinned. "Frosting!" he said, giggling. It was the only thing he wanted to put on any of them since they never lasted long enough get decorated with anything else before they went in his mouth.

Jack smiled, ruffling his dark brown hair. "Oh, if it were up to you, you'd just eat the frosting without the cookie!" she teased, kissing him on one of the few clean spots still available on his cheek. Most of his face was dotted with different colors of icing.

He only giggled harder, recognizing his guilt even at such a young age. Riddick tossed her a towel when she looked up, seeming to know exactly what she was looking for before she asked. That started happening to them a lot after they'd settled in with their firstborn. Jack jokingly called it 'coordinated parenting.'

She wiped off Cam's face, then his hands. He never stopped laughing. Considering his parents had spent much of their lives in dire seriousness, it often amazed her that they'd managed to produce a child so prone to happiness. He'd almost been the perfect baby, never worrying them too much.

She only glanced at the viewer for a second, but that was all it took. The blood drained out of her face and her stare fixed on the screen.

Sensing her sudden mood change, Riddick turned to look himself. At first he didn't seem to realize what she'd seen, but then it hit him too.

On the news they were reporting the destruction of a Resistance base on a small, isolated planet. A few hundred had died. On the screen several military men surrounded a stretcher shrouded with a bloodstained sheet. In their hurry they'd failed to completely cover the left arm of the dead man, and on his shoulder was the mark of the Assassin's Guild, hardly visible in the midst of so much charred flesh.

Rick picked up the remote and flipped to his bookmark at the Empire's link on the network. His own worth remained unchanged at zero dollars common. A few button clicks and he'd found Conte's name.

Zero dollars common, updated just that morning.

Riddick and Jack shared a knowing look.

The Con-X had fallen from his throne.


	53. Epilogue Pt 2

**AN:** This is a completely original piece of writing. Details and characters may not be used without permission. Because I feel a little self-conscious about it, I'd like to say that half my pen name on came from the character I'm about to introduce in this chapter, not the other way around. Please forgive any deleted spaces between words--it's an annoyance on this site that apparently will never go away.

-------------------------------------

I hated the apples in prison. They always tasted like shit—leftovers not good enough to sell at full price to the general public. Since I got out, I'd started eating them every day, along with a variety of other fruits to treat my various illnesses caused by a lack of essential vitamins and nutrients my growing body needed while I served time. Mako—Captain Scott—he made sure the cooks would give me plenty to eat first thing after we arrived on the base.

I'd gained twenty pounds since I got out of slam, and grown a little taller. I was still a runt, but I could live with that.

It wasn't uncommon to see me wandering the base in my spare time. I'd usually have something in my mouth from the kitchens, so people assumed I was just making a snack run. So long as I walked around like I know what I'm doing, no one suspected me.

I threw the core of my apple in a passing janitor's trashcan, continuing on down a hall I had no right to be in.

I'd heard there was a new guy coming into our unit, and I wanted the first glimpse of him. Like I said, I was a runt—so I liked knowing what I was dealing with before I get into trouble.

I paused mid-way down the hall, looking both ways. The coast was clear.

I jumped up, using my entire body like a spring to launch myself upward to grab a section of pipe above me. Hanging by one hand, I moved the vent above me up and forward from its resting place, and then let myself dangle by both arms, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

I swung my legs backward, then used my forward motion, abs and arms to propel myself up and over the pipe, like a gymnast swinging on the uneven bars, and neatly slid through the above vent feet-first. After replacing the vent plate, I started to slide forward, inching along toward my goal.

I'd definitely grown some. It took far longer to reach the opening above Mako's office than it had months before, when I'd first arrived on the base. My shoulders were almost too broad for me to fit in the tight space anymore.

There were two men standing below me, and one man sitting. I slowed my breathing, concentrating on the hushed voices used by the two standing men.

"No offense intended, General, but I only see this ending in disaster."

General? General Ross, maybe? We'd heard of that prick. Always telling the Cap how to run us non-human guys in training, so we'd turn into perfect little soldiers for the Tiger Sharks.

Only five of us, including Mako, had survived our first trial mission. It wasn't the Captain's fault, but only we knew that. Of course we were going to die. That's why they recruited us out of prisons, and concentration camps. Non-humans weren't allowed in the regular military. Those of us who'd joined the Tiger Sharks, and survived the first three months of training, had nothing to look forward to but suicide missions.

Still, the odds of survival were much better with the Tiger Sharks than with sitting on death row.

The general chuckled, walking around Mako and looking his office over.

"Do you really? You don't think I can provide a working solution to your current problem? You think the Senate's turned its back on you—refused to supply weapons up to the tasks you're required to perform?"

Captain Scott pointed to the man sitting in the chair. "That is not a weapon, Ross. That's a man—but you wouldn't know it looking at him. Jesus H. Christ, where the fuck did you dig that guy up? He looks like a Goddamn meth addict tripping out of his mind."

I pressed myself to one side so I could get a look at the man they referred to. I could see what Mako meant. The dude didn't appear lucid. He just stared constantly at the ceiling, his dark eyes rarely blinking. I'm not sure what it was, but something about that guy gave me the sensation of someone walking on my grave.

Ross came to stand behind his 'weapon.' I could almost see a sick sort of pride in his smug expression. "I think you'll find Sergeant Kade more adept than you could ever imagine, Captain. We created him to be perfect. Give him a chance to fight for you, and soon you'll agree he's earned the name 'Equalizer.'"

Mako shook the personnel file he'd been skimming in Ross' general direction. "Is this true? He can't even speak? How the fuck am I going to train him if he can't confirm an understanding of my orders?"

"I told you he only came to us a short time ago. He was...damaged. We patched him up with better results than expected. There were some complications in his recovery. It's all well documented in his medical file, and I don't find it an issue. I'm sure you'll find a way," the General said, smirking.

The Captain closed his eyes, as if praying for the control necessary to continue speaking with this man. "And what about my men?"

"What about them?"

"They aren't stupid, and half of them are superstitious from growing up in the numbered prisons. They've heard the stories and the legends. They're going to know what that _thing_ is," he said, using a wide, sweeping motion with one arm to indicate Kade. "I've got a hard enough job pulling them together without them pissing themselves every time they hear a strange noise in the dark."

Pissing ourselves every time we heard a strange noise in the dark? What the fuck could make guys in the Sharks do that? Each of us had earned the name 'scariest mother fucker on the block' at the prisons we'd come from. We were the worst of the worst.

The general smirked knowingly. "Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way, Captain. You always do." With that closing remark, the general excused himself from the room, leaving his man behind.

Kade still stared at the ceiling, oblivious to all else going on around him. I didn't like the look in his eyes, or the way he stayed perfectly still at all times. I couldn't put a finger on it, but looking at the dude sent chills down my spine—and it wasn't like I hadn't seen some shit in my day. I'd done time on death row for murder. It'd been a frame up, but I was a killer. Self-defense, mostly, but who was counting?

Mako slowly plodded over to his desk, tossing down the file and then turning to face his new recruit. He crossed his arms over his chest, blowing out a long sigh, half-sitting down on the edge of the steel desktop.

"The name's Scott. Captain Scott. Most of the boys call me 'Mako,' but I guess you won't be calling me anything."

When Kade didn't even blink, the Captain shook his head, using two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Tell you what. Go do whatever the hell you want until chow time. Mess hall, seventeen hundred. Dismissed."

Kade immediately got to his feet, took three steps, and reached up to tear away the vent I was looking through. Before I could react, he grabbed my shirt and yanked me out.

I fell a good seven feet, landing so hard on my back I thought my spine must've snapped in two.

His hand closed around my throat before I could even start to get my bearings, and my eyes widened when I realized he was going to kill me—those murderous dark eyes staring straight into mine. This dude was one cold-blooded son of a bitch. I clawed at his hand, but the muscles of his arm and fingers were steel. When I dug my nails between the tendons in his forearm he didn't even flinch. I kept my neck muscles tight, but I knew I wouldn't be able to resist suffocation for more than a few seconds.

"Stand down! Let him go, Sergent," Mako yelled.

Kade didn't even move his head; only his eyes slowly slid toward the Captain's voice, narrowing slightly.

"Release him, now! That's an order, Kade!"

The grip on my throat finally slackened. When he didn't remove his hand quick enough for my liking, I twisted around, cracking him solidly in the side of the head with my boot. He let me go, his head turning with the force of my kick. I'd expected to at least knock him on his back, and maybe unconscious. The dude must've been an ox in a past life.

"Jesus Christ, Vale. What have I told you about sneaking around?" Mako snapped, crouching down next to me.

I gasped for breath, one hand holding my bruised windpipe. I would've said something sarcastic, but I couldn't say anything.

"Just hold on and breathe easy. We'll get you down to the med bay and you'll be all right."

I shook my head. I'd be fine. I just needed a minute to catch my breath. Besides, there was nothing they could do for me in med bay but give me pain killers that would dull my senses. I was on the one strike system. If it looked like I was causing any trouble at all, they might send me back to sit on death row.

One of the enlisted privates stopped by the open office door, completely out of breath. "Cap, there's a huge fight out in the yard. A man's down with a knife in his leg."

Mako straightened up, sighing again and rolling his eyes. "You'd think this outfit could go for ten minutes without adult supervision. You," he said to Kade. "Protect Vale with your life. If I see another mark on him, I'll pack you in a box and send you back to General Ross this afternoon. Understand?"

Kade narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Good," Mako muttered, walking quickly past us and disappearing out of sight, the door slamming behind him.

With the rest of the world shut out, Kade's stance relaxed, in spite of the fact that I eyed him with more than a little suspicion.

He took a step closer to me, and I tried to flinch away when he reached down to grab my arm. He pulled me to my feet with an ease that frightened me.

Once I was up, he let me go, returning to his chair. Again I eyed him—what the hell was up with this guy?

I couldn't let the opportunity pass me by. I limped over to Mako's desk, and picked up Kade's file. He didn't seem to notice my interest in it. He just sat there and stared out the window.

"Shit," I croaked, after several minutes of struggling to read the medical portion of his record. "Looks like you've really been through the wash. Eight 48-hour memory mod sessions, twelve reconstructive surgeries for facial structure, ribs, and spinal cord. Five separate regeneration sessions for the brain alone. Collapsed lung. Amputated right arm..." I glanced at him, figuring I would've noticed if the guy was missing a limb.

Sure enough, he had two arms and two legs.

"Must've had a typo there. Scar reduction treatments, tattoo removals. Administration of..." I couldn't even pronounce the name of the drug listed, nevertheless recognize its use. I turned Mako's monitor so I could see it, and asked the computer to search for the drug's spelling in a pharmaceutical dictionary.

It gave me references to a pill used to stop people from dreaming.

Jesus, no wonder the dude was so on edge. They'd taken everything from him.

I turned to look at him, suddenly not so afraid. I couldn't raise my voice above a whisper, but it would have to be enough. "What'd you dream about, man? Why'd they put you on meds so you wouldn't dream about it anymore?"

He didn't move. I figured he could hear me, but he didn't act like it.

I grabbed a pen and pad and limped over to hand them to him.

"Here, man. Write it down if you can't say it."

He didn't. He took the pad and pen from me, but he didn't do anything with them. Just kept staring off at nothing.

That night when I climbed into bed, just moments before lights out, I found a piece of paper under my pillow. It was a detailed sketch of a girl sitting alone at a table, tears running down her cheeks.

I leaned over the edge of my bunk, looking down at Kade, who'd taken the bed below mine. Most of the day he'd kept appearing near-by when I least expected it. No one had tried to steal from me at dinner, because he'd been sitting right next to me, huge and looming.

"Who is she?" I asked softly, letting him see I had the paper in hand.

He was laying on his back, staring at the mattress above him with his hands laced behind his head.

I bit my lower lip, thinking about all I'd seen and heard about him. The answer clicked in my mind.

"You don't remember who she is, do you?" I posed, leaning down a little farther so my view of him was almost upside-down.

His eyes met mine for less than a second—the first eye contact he'd afforded me since he'd tried to strangle me. It was enough to give an affirmative to my question.

I shifted back up onto my bed, my head thumping back onto my pillow.

"It's better you don't remember," I said. My bruised throat hurt like hell when the muscles tried to constrict. Tears pricked my eyes for the first time since I'd gotten sent to slam so many years ago. I wouldn't let any spill, but it was nice to know I could still feel something besides cold numbness, especially when I thought of the woman I'd loved. When they'd convicted me of her murder, I'd thought I'd never feel anything again. "They kill the ones you remember," I whispered.

My words were met with silence—but somehow I knew he'd understand.

-------------------------------------

End.

**AN: Look for the sequel to this story called 'All the King's Men.' I've posted several chapters of it already.**


End file.
